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SWF Smarkdown - 8/14/2006

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The Smartmarks Wrestling Federation presents...
Live, Monday, August 14th, from Rexall Place in Edmonton, Alberta!
(7pm PST, 10pm EST; check local listings)



Charlie "Grappler" Matthews and Tom Flesher ©© vs. Two Skinny White Guys (Michael Stephens © and Landon "La Cucaracha" Maddix)

--> After ripping the tag division apart one by one, Two Skinny White Guys have been groomed to challenge the absolutely magnificent team of Matthews and Flesher! Will the new Cruiserweight Champion defeat his number-one contender? Can he show the Heavyweight Champion that his challenge was for real? Or will Charlie Matthews' oft-injured neck come back to bite him again? It's the top talent in the SWF today, and it's YOUR main event!
Rules: Standard. USE THE TAG ROPES!


Bruce Blank © vs. "The Divine Wind" Akira Kaibatsu (#1 Contender)

--> Pop the colla, Bruce Blank! He's being remade and conducting himself as befits one of the SWF's top competitors. He's straying from his ultraviolent past, but this I Quit match might bring out the best in him... or the worst. Akira Kaibatsu won this contendership at Ground Zero, but promptly lost a Returning Contestant Decision match to Spike Jenkins, who waits in the wings for the winner of this match! Who gets the... uh, honor? Yes, that'll do.... of fighting the Spoon?
Rules: A stick mic will be available for the wrestlers' use. The first wrestler to make his opponent say "I Quit" into the microphone wins the match and the International Championship.


Jimmy the Doom © vs. "The Dean of Professional Wrestling" Jay Hawke

--> After a lengthy absence from the SWF, Jay Hawke made a triumphant return to his former glory by outlasting Bruce Blank in a ten-minute Hardcore Challenge on Lockdown! Joe Peters was so impressed that he decided to give Hawke a chance to fight his way back to the top of the rankings by facing off with top-ranked Jimmy the Doom!
Rules: Standard. This is NOT an order of contendership match - only the winner becomes #1 Contender.


Birdman vs. "Iron" Mike Cross

--> Birdman made an impressive return on Lockdown, dispatching Martin Hunt in his usual fashion. Michael Cross didn't have as much luck, as he suffered a tough loss to Tom Flesher via the King Cobra submission. Two talented cruiserweights face off, and the winner? The Fans!

God, that was terrible.
Rules: Standard with cruiserweight addenda.


Nemesis vs. "The Ace" Pierre Donette

--> Pierre Donette was slated to wrestle a dark match on Lockdown, and because it was a dark match, it wasn't seen on the television broadcast. Nonetheless, Joe Peters is impressed with his natural talent and sees him as someone who could be at the top of the promotion. Nemesis - the Nemeses? - is coming off a strong win against Manson, and is looking to move up the card. This is going to be a barnburner for sure!
Rules: Standard


JJ Johnson vs. Manson

--> JJ requested this match. Frankly, since he's ranked so low, we figured we'd throw him a bone.
Rules: Standard


Opening Promo: Dual Champion Tom Flesher!


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The camera returns to SWF Smarkdown, panning around the Rexall Place in Edmonton, Alberta, and picking up various signs that are, to be honest, rather lame, and don’t bear repeating. It matters not, as it soon becomes too dark to read. Shortly thereafter, an echo rings out over the speakers, and the crowd rises to its feet. Another echo follows…




…and then with a guttural howl, Cephalic Carnage’s “Scientific Remote Viewing” is in full gear, blasting out over the sound system as seizure-inducing strobes kick up and the man himself strides out of the curtain. Or, rather, the MANSON.


“Ladies and gentlemen,” booms Funyon cheerfully as the Raging Bull begins striding down to the ring, “the following contest is scheduled for one fall, with a twenty-minute time limit! Introducing first, from Denver, Colorado, weighing 230 pounds… MMMAAANNNSOOON!!”


MANSON continues striding down to the ring in his robe covered in propaganda, including such statements as ‘DOGS CAN SMELL FEAR. MANSON CAN KILL FEAR,’ ‘WHEN AN UNSTOPPABLE FORCE MEETS AN IMMOVABLE OBJECT, THE RESULT IS MANSON,’ and ‘THE M IN E=MC^2 IS FOR MANSON.’ Upon reaching the steps, he unbuckles his belt, his robe hanging open as he walks up the steps into the ring, stepping through the ropes before going to the far corner and standing on the middle rope, throwing up the metal horns to his people as the house lights go back up.


“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Smarkdown!” beams the Franchise. “I’m the Franchise, Mak Francis, joined as always by the Suicide King, and what a contest we have for you!”


“A grudge match, if you will,” agrees the Heartbreaker. “MANSON and Johnson were tag team champions for almost fifty days, and broke up shortly thereafter. Since then the two haven’t met in the ring, although they have before on several occasions, Johnson coming out on top every time. We’ll see if MANSON can break the streak tonight.”


“Indeed we will, King,” nods Mak.


“Of course, by ‘if’, I mean ‘that’,” says King, correcting himself. “Now that MANSON is no longer afraid to unleash the full might of MANSONOSITY, he’ll easily dispatch of JJ.”


“I have a different theory,” interrupts the Franchise, “one that doesn’t deal with mystical powers. MANSON will be looking to finally score a win over Johnson here tonight, and Johnson’ll be looking to score a win for the first time since he returned. All in all, it should be a hell of a ma-“




Fear Factory’s “Scapegoat” immediately kicks up, but instead of the usual smoke, strobes, and all that hooplah, the lights go back up, and Johnson immediately begins making a quick pace to the ring.


“And his opponent!” booms Funyon over the roaring home-country crowd of the man he’s announcing, “from Toronto, Ontario, Canada… J! J! JOHNSON!!”


Funyon finishes just before the Canadian slides into the ring, quickly shedding his track jacket. Seeing no reason to hold the match up any longer, referee Blaine Kalem calls for the bell.




Immediately, The Raging Bull and Dangerous J lock up, the two powerful junior heavyweights muscling around for a moment before breaking the tie-up. Johnson is first to act immediately thereafter, casting an elbow towards the jaw of the man from Colorado, but MANSON, having seen too many of those in his time, blocks it and immediately ducks around the Ultimate Fighter before hooking him in a rear waistlock. Knowing exactly what follows this, Johnson lowers his center of gravity, rendering a lift impossible. Deciding not to waste energy, MANSON picks a safe route, slapping on a hammerlock.


“Nice opening exchange, showing how well these two men know each other,” nods the Franchise in approval as Johnson continues to prove that point by ducking under the arm and slapping on a hammerlock of his own. MANSON grimaces and slaps at his shoulder, but in a flash, he’s countered it back into a hammerlock; unfortunately, all of this countering has brought the two men near to the ropes, and Johnson is quick to reach out and grab on, forcing a break from the Raging Bull. MANSON backs away slowly as Johnson turns to face his opponent… and then the Denver native steps in again and fires a stiff kick to the chest of the home-country hero!






“Hey!” cries Mak, agreeing with the crowd. “Whatever happened to a clean break?”


“Technically, that was a clean break,” notes the Heartbreaker, having given many technically clean breaks in his time. “Of course, judging from the look on JJ’s face, the only clean break we’re going to see is the one in MANSON’s skull.”


To his credit, Johnson is doing his best to ignoring the stinging in his sternum, although he grimaces. The pain in his mouth doesn’t reach his eyes, however; those are devoted to leering at the Raging Bull, and with vengeance on his mind, Johnson quickly steps in and fires off an elbow!




MANSON is staggered by the blow, but only for a few steps; immediately, he bears down, grits his teeth for a moment, and then stands back up, rage in his eyes. The battle lines drawn, the two men lock up again, battling more vigorously for position than before; MANSON takes the advantage, ducking behind and trying for a half-nelson, but Johnson brings his arm down and then around, scooping MANSON’s arm in the progress and wasting no time taking the Raging Bull over with an ippon seoi. The judo throw carries MANSON into the ropes, rendering a follow-up impossible.






Well, unless your follow-up is a cheap kick to the ribs. This just so happens to be the case in this instance, and Johnson backs away from the Raging Bull shortly thereafter. MANSON muscles himself up, scowling, and Johnson simply stares back.


“And Johnson shows MANSON who’s boss there,” notes King. “You’re not going to beat a world class judoka like JJ with go-behinds.”


Snarling, MANSON locks up with Johnson. Not wanting to go through this again, Johnson pops him with an elbow.




Naturally, MANSON staggers, but only a step, and he fires another shoot kick to the chest of the Canadian!




Again Johnson stands tall, mostly shrugging off the vicious blow… so MANSON takes it one step further.






“KICK TO THE THROAT! MANSON BOOTS JOHNSON IN THE THROAT!” screams Mak as Johnson’s eyes bug out of his head, the Canadian collapsing back into the ropes, holding his throat and gritting his teeth as he gasps for breath.


“Well, you’re not going to beat JJ by pissing him off, either,” frowns the Heartbreaker. “This is one man against whom you definitely don’t want to go for the throat.”


And indeed, even through the agony in Johnson’s eyes, there lies a vitriol never before seen. As MANSON stands back, chuckling to himself, referee Blaine Kalem checks on the Canadian, making sure he wants to continue. It seems that Johnson nods slightly, and that’s enough to satisfy Kalem, who steps away. As soon as he does, MANSON steps forward, looking to take advantage of the injured Ultimate Fighter…




…only to find an infuriated Ultimate Fighter waiting for him, the normally-stoic Johnson exploding upwards with an elbow smash that rocks the Raging Bull to his very core! No tiny staggers this time as MANSON all but collapses under the force of the blow, and Johnson is hardly done yet, bouncing off of the ropes behind him before charging forward and nailing MANSON with a running elbow that sends him stumbling and then tumbling, dropping to the mat hard!




To his credit, MANSON immediately begins muscling his way back up, but the only purpose that serves is to give him a target as JJ rockets forward with a running knee!




But MANSON blocks, and immediately explodes upwards, rocking Johnson with an elbow smash!




But Johnson shrugs it off and blasts MANSON with an elbow smash!




MANSON stumbles, if only from the countless elbows he’s already taken, but the Raging Bull is tougher than most men, and fires back with an elbow of his own!




Johnson shrugs this one off and unleashes a flurry of three elbows!




…before spinning, going for his rolling elbow…


… and completing his rotation just in time to see MANSON leap sky-high for a gamengiri!




Which Johnson uses his arm’s momentum to cross them in front of his face and block! MANSON agilely lands on one foot, but stumbles to the side, and Johnson shoots in, looking for a takedown, but the Raging Bull is ready, blasting him in the face with a knee smash!




FINALLY, Johnson is stopped, and MANSON tucks him in a standing headscissors before bending down and wrapping his arms around the waist of the Canadian!


“MANSON Bomb!” shouts Mak as the Raging Bull takes some deep breaths, preparing for his lift. “Big-time move coming up here!”


But while the move is coming up, Johnson isn’t, deadweighting to avoid powerbomb death. Frustrated, MANSON snarls, but abandons the headscissors and fires a few forearms into Johnson’s back! The Canadian buckles under the onslaught, but does not break, and instead backs up a few steps before standing upright, parrying a MANSON elbow and blasting him with an elbow of his own!




And another!




And another!




Before sending him back into the ropes, whipping him across the ring, and then sprinting as the Raging Bull makes his comeback before leaping sky high and taking MANSON off of his feet with a high-angle dropkick! Johnson flips through the move and lands on his stomach, bouncing up to his knees; MANSON, monster that he is, is already on his knees… so Johnson leaps to his feet and fires a stiff kick into the face of the Raging Bull!




“OOOOOH!” shouts the crowd as MANSON’s eyes go out of focus and he bends back before slumping forward… right into a double underhook from Johnson, who tucks him in a standing headscissors before bracing, lifting…


“TIGER DRIVER!” shouts King…


…but it’s not to be, MANSON deadweighting and spinning out from the hold before cracking Johnson with an elbow!




The Canadian is stunned, and MANSON uses the opportunity to whip him into the corner… but Johnson reverses, handspringing out of the corner upon arriving, sailing over the still-running MANSON’s head and ready to crack him with an elbow as he turns.


That was the plan, anyway, except MANSON has gone and screwed it up by not running.


Instead, he’s caught JJ on his shoulder.


“…oh, shit…” swears the Franchise.


Most notably, everyone in the arena’s mind thinks at once as MANSON strides to the middle of the ring, the setup for the Emerald Frosion that Johnson calls…





“ADF II,” says King resolutely as Johnson gets spiked on his skull, bouncing a few inches off of the canvas before slumping onto his back. Grinning from ear to ear and ignoring the jeers raining down for stealing the home-country hero’s move, MANSON slides on top of Johnson, not even bothering to hook a leg as Kalem slides in to count.



























“Sweet Jesus!” cries Mak. “Johnson kicks out of his own ADF II, and this match is still going!”


“Technically,” says King snidely, “the ADF II is Janus’. Besides, MANSON now has JJ on the ropes, and it’s all a matter of tossing out a big enough bomb to put JJ out of commission.”


“Does MANSON have that, though?” asks the Franchise.


“You watching Johnson right now?” the Heartbreaker fires back. “I give him a chop.”


And while Johnson is valiantly – slowly, but valiantly – pushing his way to his feet, he’s completely out of it, a fact MANSON takes advantage of by immediately tucking him into a standing headscissors and throwing up the metal horns to jeers. Satisfied with the reaction, the Raging Bull reaches down and grapples the Canadian’s waist, bends his knees, and LIFTS…



…and Johnson refuses to come off the ground. Grunting, MANSON bends low again… and Johnson fires a scorpion kick into his skull! Shaking his head and roaring, MANSON ignores the blow and jumps this time , getting even more strength and bringing Johnson UP…



…and over, the momentum too much for Johnson to not be able to hop over the Colorado native’s head. Upon landing, Johnson, still dazed, has enough instinct to whirl on the spot and fire three quick shoot kicks into the back of MANSON’s knee!






MANSON buckles, but instead of breaking, he spins backwards and fires a screaming elbow into Johnson’s jaw!




Johnson reels and almost falls, but instead fires back with a thrust kick directly to the kneecap! MANSON goes down to one knee, understandably, and the Canadian moves in…







…but runs right into a huge fucking knee strike from the Ultimate Fighter! MANSON collapses, but Johnson grabs him and underhooks him, prompting a huge cheer from the crowd, as they know what’s coming!


“Tiger Driver!” shouts Mak. “Looking to take it all here!”


“Toxxic kicked out of this,” scoffs King. “MANSON sure as hell is going to.”


Of course, to say that is to not know what’s coming, as Johnson lifts, MANSON just being able to see the lights past his chest…



…at which point Johnson drops to his knees, spiking MANSON on his neck.






And the entire building goes apeshit.







“TIGER DRIVER ’91! TIGER DRIVER ’91!” screeches Mak, flailing about in place of leaping out of his seat. “TIIIIGER DRIIIVER NIIINNEETYYY-OOOOONEEE!!”


Johnson simply holds MANSON in place, and the ref counts the academic fall.





















Ding ding ding.


“Scapegoat” strikes up as Johnson immediately leaves the ring, shaking his head as he strides up the ramp, leaving Blaine Kalem to tend to the utterly-still MANSON.


“Jesis Christ,” mutters King, softly. “Who’d expect him to pull that one out?”


“I don’t know, King,” says Mak. “I don’t know. Stay tuned, folks.”




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Mak: "Ladies and gentlemen you are minutes away from witnessing the debut of the latest SWF signee, if I'm not mistaken he's the first competitor we've ever had from France"


Mak and the Suicide King get some face time after we return from the commercial break, they are also joined by a third guy behind the table, a guy with a barrette, a pencil thin moustache and a colorful silk shirt.


King: "Well to give The Ace a feeling of being back home we're brought in the most charismatic, energetic color commentator in all of France, Monsieur Jacques Baptist Bonaparte"


The Suicide King’s explanation comes with very little warmth or friendliness as he points to the Frenchman on his right.


JBB: "Bonjour"


That is all the French commentator says, obviously both Mak and King wait and expect a bit more, then when it becomes clear that's about the extend of his pre-match comments Mak quickly steps in.


Mak: ¤A-hem¤ “and now we go to Funyon in the ring for the introductions"


Funyon: "Ladies and gentlemen, Madames é Monsieurs the following contest is scheduled for ONE fall with a 20 minute time limit introducing first making his debut here tonight from Marseille, France”


King: “Frogman Le Blánc!”


The King’s joke obviously falls on deaf ears as neither Mak nor their French guest commentator say anything.


Funyon: “tipping the scale at 229 pounds making his SWF debut tonight, “The Ace!!” Pierre DOOOOOOOONETTE!!”


At first the Canadian crowd is sort quiet, not sure what to think but the moment “La Marseillaise” starts up it’s safe to say that more than half of the crowd gets an instant dislike for The Ace.


¤ Allons enfants de la patrie, ¤

¤ Le jour de gloire est arriv ¤

¤ Contre nous de la tyrannie ¤

¤ L'tendard sanglant est lev ¤


White sparks makes the Rexall Center look all purdy as “The Ace” Pierre Donette enters the arena with the French flag held high in the air waving it from side to side as only a proud Frenchman could.


Mak: “It’s always exciting to see superstars from a foreign country, just to see the subtle differences in their style”


King: “You can’t be sublet against Nemesis, the guy is just too damn big to use subtleties on him, don’t you agree Jacques?”


JBB: “Oui”


¤ Entendez vous dans les campagnes ¤

¤ Mugir ces froces soldats? ¤

¤ Ils viennent jusque dans nos bras ¤

¤ Egorger nos fils, nos compagnes! ¤


Pierre Donette steps through the ropes while taking great care to keep the flag from touching the ground, making sure not to desecrate the flag. Donette shoots Funyon an arrogant look as he shoos the announcer to one side so that he can take center stage.


King: “So Mak other than this guy being French and being yet ANOTHER cruiserweight what do you know about him?”


Mak: “Honestly? Nothing at all, maybe Jacques here knows more about Pierre Donette?”


JBB: “Oui”


Both Mak and King had hoped that Jacques would elaborate just a tad more but that doesn’t seem to be the case tonight. If the crowd weren’t sure of what to think of the French debutant they have no doubts about what to think of Professor Attenborough, he’s a relative newcomer to the federation but he’s already disliked by most people




Man those Canadians sure do get creative with their chants. The Ace folds up his flag and then hands it off to a ring side attendant after instructing him to not let it touch the ground or he’ll come back and kick his ass.


Professor: “I’m going to skip the most obvious reason for why Nemesis is going to come out here and kick your ass, being that you’re French!”


Mak: “Well someone didn’t miss the obvious jokes did they?”


King: “Oh come on he didn’t call them white flag waving surrender monkeys now did he?”


Professor: “Instead I want to talk to you about you walking into this federation and declaring yourself something of a “Cruiserweight killer” or some nonsense right? A cruiserweight “Cruiserweight Killer”? Talk about arrogance”


King: “Well he is French”


Mak: “KING!! I would like to apologize to all our French viewers I’m sure they’re all terribly offended by now.”


JBB: “Oui”


Professor: “Such arrogance, such hubris Mr. Donette. Well Hubris, meet NEEEEEEEEEEMESIS!!!”


As is the tradition now the lights die down only a split second before the deep rumbling impact that feels like when the French do underground nuclear testing on Moruroa is felt.


¤ BOOOOOOoooooommmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm ¤


The real life smoke breathing monster steps through the green inferno of pyrotechics as the crowd boo and jeer their little Canadian hearts out. To Pierre Donette’s credit he doesn’t run away or wave a white flag as the gigantic luminescent figure moves towards the ring, Donette is here to show the world that the French aren’t just quitters but indeed fighters! The Professor has a few words of instruction for the big man as the house lights come back up to their normal levels. Once the Professor has given “his” monster the last set of instructions he points to the ring and to Pierre Donette.




Mak: “I know that the SWF like to test people out right off the bat but this may be too much”


King: “The bigger the challenge the bigger the prize, I mean if Ace here can knock Nemesis off tonight he’ll really have arrived, he’ll be a true rookie sensation”


JBB: “Oui”


Donette awaits his opponent’s reactions instead of foolishly charging at the monster of a man. Nemesis takes a step towards Pierre Donette, reaches out to grab the much smaller opponent but gets nothing but air as Donette ducks under the outstretched arms and then kicks Nemesis in the back of the knee. The first kick hardly registers with Nemesis but the second one seems to get his attention as he turns towards Donette and makes a move for him.


King: “He’s moving very fluidly in the ring, avoiding Nemesis like it was child’s play”


Mak: “Considering how slow and plodding Nemesis is it’s not that hard to look fast against him”


King: “Have you always been such a wet blanket Mak?”


After ducking under yet another lunging attack from the Colossus Pierre Donette builds up some speed and then nails Nemesis in the back of the leg with a running boot. The kick throws Nemesis off balance giving Pierre an opening to hit the big man in the knee again before darting in to grab Nemesis by the leg in an attempt to lift it off the ground and push the monster off his feet. Donette looks to be succeeding at first as he raises the big man’s foot off the ground but moments later Pierre Donette learns what a fly feels like when it gets his with a fly swatter as Nemesis brings one of his huuuuuuuuuuge fists down on the Frenchman’s back


Mak: “I thought for a second he might have had him there”


King: “Too early Mak, much too early you really have to wear these big men down”


Mak: “Oh do you have a lot of experience in monster slaying?”


King: “Ehhh yes! Yes I do, I remember one night I had to fight off both a 7 foot Cyclops and then a couple of 300 pound fans back to back.”


The Ace is quickly back on his feet after being stuck with the hammer like blow, it was a blow that taught him one thing: don’t get hit like that again. Donette’s stance loosens considerably as he gets a spring in his step avoiding the big man each time he makes a move for the Frenchman. The Professor yells at Nemesis to try and trap Pierre in the corner but since he’s yelling at the top of his lungs it’s hardly a secret and the Ace easily avoids being caught in the corner. One time it actually looks like Nemesis has his opponent trapped as Pierre ends up in the corner with Nemesis blocking both escape routes around him. When the big man rushes in to strike Pierre the Ace lithely leaps over the top rope and to the floor avoiding the crushing impact of the big man




Mak: “This is your opening man! Nemesis is staggered”


King: “He’s so big that the only man that can hurt himself is himself”


Nemesis is staggered after running straight into the turnbuckles at full speed, something which does not escape the attention of Pierre Donette, he’s no snail after all. In a flash of red Donette is up on the apron and then on the top rope before you can even say “Freedom Fries”. With the wind of his fellow Frenchmen beneath his wings Donette leaps off the top rope, twists his body and strikes Nemesis in the back with a flying reverse elbow.


King: “Now that’s impressive isn’t it?”


JBB: “Oui”


Mak: “(pregnant pause) alright I’ll give him that one.”


The back elbow has driven Nemesis into the corner chest first and he now finds himself in a precarious position as Donette has grabbed one of his legs and is trying to pull the big man to the ground. Pierre holds on to the big boot with all he’s got at Nemesis tries to shake him lose, he even holds on as Nemesis pulls the leg up under himself. This is something Pierre will live to regret as Nemesis kicks backwards with all of his considerable might planting his size “humongous” boot right in Pierre’s chest


Mak: “Man his advantage didn’t last very long did it?”


King: “Are you making fun of the French’s stamina? Are you saying that they’re quick in the sack? Tell me Jacques is that a fair comment to make about the French?”


JBB: “Oui”


Nemesis makes sure to get his hand on his opponent before the Frenchman has a chance to recover. With Nemesis providing a power boost Pierre Donette is sent hurdling from one corner towards the opposite one




Striking the turnbuckles chest first. Nemesis grabs the hurting Frenchman and then repeats his trick by hurtling Pierre across the ring the opposite way




The Irish Whip has so much mustard on it that it carries Pierre Donette over the turnbuckles after he strikes them. In fact the Ace has so much force applied to him that he flies clean over the top rope and to the floor without even touching the apron. While Pierre is down hurting more than Napoleon after the Waterloo Professor Attenborough runs over to him and tells him exactly how much love there is between the British and the French






The referee starts to count since this isn’t a Hardcore match or any other match where the opponent can just lie around on the floor all night long.




Nemesis buttons his shoe! After he’s done with that he steps over the top rope and then down onto the mat at ringside.





Whoa, whoa fast count!! Not that Nemesis seems to be bothered with the referee’s count, he only listens to the Professor after all and right now the professor is instructing him to lift the Ace up in the air.




For a man of Nemesis size and power that’s a small feat, one that takes but a second




Or maybe two at most before Pierre Donette is up high in the air only to be thrown over the top rope and inside the ring before the referee can reach 7.




Nemesis decides that he’s tired of stepping over the top rope and instead just slides under the bottom rope before crawling over towards Pierre Donette on all fours. Nemesis grabs his glove by the edge and tightens it before he slaps the claw hold on the Ace


Mak: “This is Nemesis trademark!”


King: “Really? It’s not being a huuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuge guy in a fluorescent suit?”


JBB: “Oui”


Nemesis gets up on one knee, pulling Pierre up with him as he keeps the claw hold on tight covering more or less all of the Frenchman’s face. When Nemesis stands up Pierre stands up, he’s powerless to fight it. He’s also powerless to fight against Nemesis lifting him up in the air




And holding him there for a moment or two. Showing that he’s obviously spent some time studying the tapes of Nemesis previous SWF matches Donette lashes out at the masked monster with a right knee that catches Nemesis in the jaw, then a second knee that spins Nemesis around enough for Pierre Donette to get his feet on the top rope. After a quick bounce on the ropes for good luck Pierre wraps both his hands around Nemesis’ wrist and leaps off.






Then when Nemesis makes a move Donette rushes in with a stiff right hand to Nemesis’ jaw.


JBB: “Main droite!! Main droite!! Main droite!! Oh mon dieu quelle main droite glorieuse de mon compatriote! Le monstre mythique a massacré son dernier adversaire parce qu'il ne marchera pas hors d'ici avec une victoire ce soir! C'est impressionnant, ceci est exactement comment les Français l'obtiennent fait. Va te faire foutre George W. Bush, va te faire foutre les Etats-Unis, va te faire foutre et votre "liberté fait frire" parce que nous n'avons pas besoin de vous! Vive La France”


King: “What the??”


JBB: “Vive La France!!”


As Jacques Baptist Bonaparte loses it on commentary telling everyone to kiss France’s collective keesters Pierre Donette does his best to keep the advantage by dropping a series of power drive elbows




JBB: “Vive La France!!”




JBB: “Vive La France!!”




JBB: “Vive La France!!”


After giving Nemesis an elbow and then its sequel and then THAT elbow’s sequel Donette takes a moment to turn to the crowd and shows them that he has no love for the local Canuckle heads




Apparently Edmonton has a large population of people with the last name Flanders.


Mak: “If Donette keeps this on we may just see the two smaller Nemesis again”


King: “Two smaller? What the hell are you talking about?”


JBB: “Vive La France!!”


King: “Yeah that’s nice but you’re not really contributing here!”


Mak: “You know what I’m talking about, we both saw two short guys wearing the same type of outfit that Nemesis wears on Lockdown”


King: “Have you been drinking? Two smaller Nemeses? That’s crazy talk”


JBB: “Vive La France!!”


Nemesis has managed to get back to his feet as Pierre was busy professing his love for his home country. The Ace just smirks arrogantly as he sees the big man up, then he goes for broke by running at the big man, ducking under a slow clothesline attempt by the Colossus leaping up to leg scissor Nemesis’ other arm foolishly hoping to land a Crucifix Bomb on the masked monster


Silly Frenchman you can’t Crucifix Bomb Nemesis


But HE can drop back driving the Ace into the ground with a Samoan Drop that rocks the ring, rocks Pierre Donette and rocks the video charts!!






After having dashed Jacque Baptist Bonaparte’s dreams of French supremacy Nemesis feels inclined to dash his opponent as well as he whips Pierre Donette into the ropes, catches him on the return and then drives the Frenchman into the ground with a Main Event Spine Buster!




If the Ace thought he knew pain before then Nemesis gives him a whole new definition of what pain is as he places his huge boot on the Frenchman’s chest and then uses him as a stepping stone much in the same way Pierre will be a stepping stone for Nemesis in the SWF if he wins tonight.


One of the fans at ringside has been yelling at Professor Attenborough all through out the match and the good (well the bad) professor has finally had enough as he forgets about the match and instead starts to tell the fan how most Canadians have at least one goat in their family tree somewhere and those that don’t only recently moved to Canada.


King: “You tell ‘em Bill, lousy Francophilic bacon-loving bastards”


Mak: “I see you’re doing your part for the American/Canadian brotherhood”


With the professor distracted one thing is readily apparently, Nemesis doesn’t do jack squat without some sort of instruction, even if it’s vague like “kick his ass” or “Tear him a new one” it’s enough. But without ANY instructions at all from the Professor the big man just stands there in the ring, totally lost.


And be glad that the professor was talking to the fan and not making a general comment that Nemesis might have interpreted as an order when he told the guy to go have intercourse with a goat.


King: “Come on big man move, helloooooooooooooooooo??”


Mak: “I’ve never seen anyone have such complete control over a guy, he’ll hardly breathe without being told to do so”


King: “Speaking of breather, it’s giving Pierre here a breather”


Mak: “Ouch talk about a painful segue”


King: “I know, I know I think being in Canada is rotting my brain.”


With Nemesis totally inactive Pierre Donette has been given a second chance at this match, an opportunity to catch his breath, to shake off some of the aches and pains and to reassess his gameplan for tonight. Since Nemesis isn’t moving Pierre isn’t making an attempts at attacking him either, he’s made the most headway when he’s reacted to Nemesis instead of acting towards him.


So the two of them just stand there in the ring, waiting.




The fans seem to want a bit of action going so they start to chant for something, ANYTHING to happen. The chant gets the professor’s reaction who turns his attention away from the goat shagging fan to the other goat shagging fans and ask them.


Professor: WHO??




The Professor seems to be annoyed with just how clever the Canadian fans are with their chants, and he’s yet to hear one single “This is awesome” chant, what sort of wrestling crowd is this?? Pierre obliges the fan request as he lands a Yakuza kick to Nemesis midsection, damn him for being so freaking tall. With the first one doing a bit of damage Pierre lines up for another Yakuza kick, gets a running start and




Nails the big man in his big bread basket with a move that has ironically never been used by the Japanese Mafia. With the mantra “Nothing succeeds like success” Pierre Donette decides to go for a third Yakuza kick when Nemesis stands up once more.




King: “You know if he aimed a little bit further south he’d not have to kick the big guy three times”


Mak: “You mean like if he kicked him in Las Vegas?”


King: “What??”


Mak: “Las Vegas, that’s south of here. It was a joke, he, he, he”


King: “Oh it was so funny I forgot to laugh”


Three kicks to the stomach is enough to hurt anyone but despite the agonizing “I just had Taco Bell” level pain to his stomach Nemesis can’t stop attacking, after all the Professor ordered him to keep it up. Nemesis locks his fingers together while raising both hands for a clubbing blow as he tries to get back in the match. But Pierre Donette have other plans, much more serious and really hard hitting plans as the Ace spins 360 degrees and lands the Discus Lariat




If Pierre had been bigger, or inversely if Nemesis had been smaller the Discus Lariat would definitely have taken it’s victim down and down with AUTORITY~! But even after spinning around 228 pounds of twisted steel and French-appeal isn’t quite enough to knock Nemesis down but the big man is seriously thrown off kilter. Donette adds to the “kilter” by hooking Nemesis leg and driving his shoulder into the Colossus mid section.




¤ BAM ¤


Once Pierre has Nemesis legs bent up for the Iron Curtain he realizes that he’s cooked a bigger turkey than he can eat and Nemesis is once again (say it with me people) too damn big. With a frustrated snort Pierre pushes Nemesis legs away and then grabs the monster by the hair pulling his opponent up to his knees.


Mak: “Heh! They’re almost the same size when Nemesis is on his feet.”


Donette takes a half leap forward driving the tip of his boot into Nemesis midsection






Figuring that one kick wouldn’t do enough for the big man Pierre Donette lays in THREE kicks in preparations for the Ace Crusher. The Ace then leaps on his opponent, grabbing him in a 3/4 headlock ready to finish the match off.




Nemesis plants one of his massive feet on the ground giving him enough leverage to stop the Ace from hitting the Ace Crusher. The Colossus stands up, using his power to flip Pierre up on his shoulder, chest down trapped by the big man as he waits for the Professor tell him what to do.


Mak: “Doesn’t this guy have an independent thought?”


King: “Hey if you’re working with a man clearly smarter than yourself wouldn’t you take instructions from him?”


Mak: “No”


King: “Yeah I found that out the first night we worked together”


Nemesis wraps both his arms tightly around Pierre Donette’s body in preparation for a move. In one smooth motion Nemesis flips Donette down and round into a side slam position and then drops all of his weight on top of the Frenchman


¤ WHAM ¤


After the side suplex Nemesis rolls over and puts all his weight on top of his fallen opponent



















Big surprise: 3!!!






Professor Attenborough enters the ring and motions for Nemesis to get up off his opponent as Nemesis’ eerie music plays and the lights flicker between green and normal. The referee grabs Nemesis by the wrist and then raises his hand in the air to indicate the winner. The only problem is that Nemesis wants to raise his hand much higher than the referee can reach which explains why Nemesis lifts the referee off the ground, the small man dangling from his wrist like a monkey


Funyon: “The winner of the match The Colossus NEMEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESIS!!!”


King: “Score another victory for Nemesis, he seems to have recovered well after stumbling against Manson”


Mak: “Donette put up quite a valiant fight tonight but it was just too much for him.”


King: “Put him in there with guys closer to his size and I think it’ll be a different story”


Mak: “Well I guess we have to say goodbye to Jacque”


King: “Awww what a shame, hit the road Frenchy!”

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“We’re back for more Smarkdown,” says Mak Francis. “And, last week on Lockdown, ‘Iron’ Mike Cross had his World Cruiserweight Title reign come to an end at the hands of Tom Flesher. He’s looking to get back on the winning track, but he’s going to have to start here tonight against the Birdman!”


“There’s no shame in losing to Tom Flesher,” says the Suicide King. “Flesher is one of the greatest of all time; he’s held every title worth having here in the SWF, including the Cruiserweight Title, and after two grueling matches against Zyon, ‘Iron’ Mike didn’t have that much of a chance… I mean, Tom’s not a guy that you’re going to be able to beat unless you’re at one hundred percent! But I give credit to ‘Iron’ Mike for not dwelling on the past. He’s moving on; in fact, he’s already got his sights set towards Genesis!”


“What King is referring to is an interview held with Mike Cross after Lockdown, which was an exclusive to SWF.com. In it, he challenged his former tag team partner, Akira Kaibatsu, to a Submissions match at Genesis!”


“Akira’s in for a world of pain at Genesis,” adds King. “Mike Cross has already shown that he’ll do whatever it takes to reach the top of the SWF, including running over his former partner. And, at Genesis, ‘Iron’ Mike will prove that he’s willing to do whatever it takes to get BACK on top!”


“That’s going to be one for the ages,” agrees Mak, “but Cross had better not make the mistake of looking past the Birdman. Birdman made his return to the SWF last week on Lockdown against Martin Hunt. And, after a two-year absence, the Bird looks to have picked up right where he left off!”


“Birdman is a very unpredictable wrestler,” concedes King. “But, having already defeated Zyon, I can’t imagine that Birdman could possibly be a greater challenge for ‘Iron’ Mike. Plus, this is only Birdman’s second match back, and his first match was against the inept Martin Hunt. I fully expect Cross to roll over Birdman as he continues on his path to Genesis!”


“Don’t underestimate the Birdman, King,” warns Francis. “He was one of the top cruiserweight stars in the SWF during his first run, and he looks like he’s on track to re-establish himself in the Cruiserweight Division. In fact, He may very well put himself in line for a title shot with a win here tonight against Mike Cross!”


“Not going to happen!” insists King. “Cross has re-dedicated himself to competition, and he’s not going to allow Birdman to come between him and his destiny at Genesis!”


“There’s no question that the best cruiserweights in the world compete here in the SWF,” says Mak, bringing it home for the television viewers. “And you’re about to see why right now, as we send it up to Funyon in the ring!”








“The following contest is scheduled for one fall!” booms Funyon. Suddenly “The Show Must Go On” by Queen starts playing, as Michael Cross steps out onto the stage. The fans boo Cross energetically as he begins to make his way down towards the ring.


“Introducing first,” continues Funyon, “from Detroit, Michigan, and weighing in at two hundred twenty-eight pounds, here is ‘Iron’ Mike CROSS!” Cross walks up the steel stairs and then steps between the ropes to enter the ring. He attempts to focus on the match at hand, but the fans are less than willing to oblige:








Cross jumps up and down in frustration as the fans continue to tease him for how he submitted to lose the Cruiserweight Title.


“It would seem that ‘Iron’ Mike hasn’t moved on from his loss on Lockdown as thoroughly that you were making him out to be, King,” remarks Francis. “He’s clearly letting these fans get to him!”


“This is horrible!” shouts King. “I can’t believe the lack of class by the fans here in Canada! I hope that this is our last Canadian Tour, because these fans don’t deserve to have us come back! And besides which, technically, he didn’t even TAP out!” Cross complains about the fans’ behavior to referee Eddy Long, but Long just shrugs at him, as if to say, “What do you want ME to do about it?” “The Show Must Go On” fades out, leaving a hush to fall over the crowd before it is pierced by Fergie’s voice:






The fans in the Rexall Arena begin cheering enthusiastically as “Let’s Get Retarded” by the Black Eyed Peas begins pumping through the speakers. Birdman bounds out onto the stage, dancing around for the fans delight.


“His opponent,” continues Funyon, “from parts unknown, and weighing in at two hundred nineteen pounds… the Birdman!” Birdman traipses leisurely down the aisle, greetings the fans around the barricade as he makes his way to the ring.


“They’re on their feet here for the Birdman!” shouts Mak. “King, he may be one of the most popular performers that we’ve ever had here in the SWF!”


“Hell if I know why,” grunts King, as Birdy hops onto the ring apron and vaults over the top rope. “All he does is run around in a bird suit and squawk!” At that very moment, Birdy decides to make King’s point for him, as he salutes the crowd with his signature cry:


Birdman: CAW-CAW!

Crowd: CAW-CAW!


“You see what I mean?” snaps King. Birdman’s music fades out, and Eddy Long signals to the timekeeper to start the match:






“There’s the bell!” shouts Mak. “This match is underway!” Birdy approaches Cross tentatively, and ‘Iron’ Mike immediately takes control, burying a knee into his midsection! Cross then begins to hammer Birdman in the upper back with a brutal series of clubbing forearm smashes, before trapping him in a waistlock; Cross pops his hips as he heaves the Bird overhead, driving him into the canvas with a belly-to-back suplex!


“Wow!” exclaims Mak, as Cross pulls Birdman to his feet. “Michael Cross wasted no time in coming out of the chute with a vengeance; he hasn’t even given Birdman time to breathe!” Cross hoists Birdy onto his shoulder in a bearhug and charges into a nearby corner, driving the Bird’s back into the turnbuckles!


“So much for looking past his opponent,” laughs King, as Iron Mike continues to drive his shoulder into Birdy’s midsection. “Or maybe he’s just seeing Akira Kaibatsu in the ring instead of the Birdman!” Cross grabs Birdy by the back of the head and leads him across the ring to bash his face into the opposite corner, but the Bird gets his foot up at the last second to block, and then smashes Mike’s face into the top turnbuckle instead! Birdy reaches up to trap Iron Mike’s head in a cravate as he staggers out of the corner, and then takes him over with a snapmare; in what seems like a singular motion, he then turns back towards the corner and leaps onto the middle ropes before flying back into the ring…






… Blasting Cross in the back of the head with a springboard missile dropkick from the second rope! Birdman pulls Mike to his feet and grabs him by the wrist to whip him across the ring, but Cross reverses easily, sending Birdy into the ropes instead. Birdy ducks an elbow as he rebounds and is waiting for Iron Mike as he turns back around, taking him off his feet with a lightning-quick armdrag! Cross stumbles to his feet, but the Bird tosses him into the air with a second deep armdrag takeover, and then follows up with a hiptoss; Birdman runs to the ropes as Iron Mike stumbles back to his feet and leaps into the air as he rebounds, nailing Cross with a running dropkick that sends him tumbling out of the ring! Birdman salutes the crowd with his signature shout out:


Birdman: CAW-CAW!

Crowd: CAW-CAW!


Michael Cross gets to his feet just in time to see Birdman diving headfirst towards him! He dives to the floor to evade what he expects will be a suicide dive, but the Bird grabs onto the top and middle ropes at the last second and swings back into the ring! Iron Mike scrambles back to his feet to see Birdman standing in the center of the ring, taunting him with his trademark birdcall:


Birdman: CAW-CAW!

Crowd: CAW-CAW!


“Michael Cross got off to a good start in this match, but Birdman’s managed to turn the tables on him!” exclaims Mak, as Cross slams his hands on the apron in frustration Cross returns to the ring well ahead of the referee’s count, and he locks up with Birdman in the center of the ring; Cross takes control with a side headlock. Birdy backs Cross against the ropes and forces him across the ring, but Iron Mike knocks him down as he rebounds with a shoulderblock! Cross runs towards the edge of the ring, but the Bird hooks him in a rolling single-leg takedown as he bounces off the ropes, quickly bending Iron Mike’s leg backwards as he applies a half-Boston Crab on the former Cruiserweight Champion! Before he can get it hooked in good, however, Cross scrambles like a madman to get to the ropes, forcing a break. Eddy Long begins to deliver a ten-count as Cross rolls out of the ring to recover, and the fans begin to jeer at him for getting caught in a submission:








“Boy,” notes Francis, “Michael Cross has really been out of sync ever since taking that missile dropkick!” Cross pulls himself up onto the apron ahead of the referee’s count, and Birdman goes over to confront him, but Iron Mike thrusts his upper body between the ropes to drive his shoulder into Birdy’s midsection! Cross grasps onto the top rope and launches himself into the ring, grabbing onto Birdman’s waist as he flies past to hook a Sunset Flip!












But Birdman rolls through the Sunset Flip, grabbing Cross by the left leg as he gets to his feet; Birdy wraps Iron Mike’s left leg behind his right, and then reaches down to grab the former Cruiserweight Champion’s right leg, crossing his legs together before falling back into a Figure-Four leglock! Once again, Iron Mike desperately makes his way to the ropes, forcing a break:








“These fans are really getting underneath Iron Mike’s skin!” says Mak. “They won’t let him forget that he tapped out last week!”


“Which is patently unfair!” snaps King. “I’ll bet every single person in this crowd would have tapped in less than half the time!”


“Sounds like they’ve touched a nerve with you as well, King,” says Mak.


“You’re damned right!” replies King. “These cretins should cut Iron Mike some slack. I mean, he tapped out to Tom Freaking Flesher; there’s no shame in that! It’s not like he tapped out to that twerp Landon Maddix or somebody like that!” Cross reluctantly returns to the center of the ring, where he ties up with Birdman. Birdy takes control with an arm wringer, which Cross quickly reverses. He drives several kneelifts into Birdman’s midsection as he backs him against the ropes; Cross whips Birdy across the ring but, instead of bouncing off the ropes, Birdman slides underneath the bottom rope and lands on his feet out on the arena floor. Birdman taunts Iron Mike with a birdcall:


Birdman: CAW-CAW!

Crowd: CAW-CAW!


Cross angrily storms over to the edge of the ring and reaches through the ropes to take a swing at Birdman, but the Bird stands just out of his reach.


“Birdman is playing a dangerous game with Iron Mike,” warns King. “He doesn’t want to keep agitating him in the perturbed state he’s in!” Eddy Long orders Cross to step away from the edge of the ring so that he can deliver a ten-count Iron Mike turns his back on Birdy only to charge towards the edge of the ring, sliding feet-first underneath the bottom rope to get a cheap shot on his opponent…


… But the Bird dives back into the ring through the second rope just as Cross is diving out of the ring through the bottom rope! Birdy rolls quickly back to his feet and charges back towards the edge of the ring, diving feet-first through the ropes before Iron Mike realizes what happened…






… And blasts him in the face with a baseball slide! Birdman gets back to his feet and runs over to the nearby corner as Cross stumbles backwards into the ring barricade! Birdy climbs up to the top turnbuckle and waits for Cross to get back to his feet before leaping out of the ring, drilling Iron Mike between the eyes with a flying double-axe handle!


“Birdman’s on a roll!” shouts Mak. “Cross doesn’t know whether he’s coming or going!” Birdman pulls Cross back up to his feet and leans him against the barricade, before drawing his arm back…




… And blistering Iron Mike’s chest with a vicious reverse knife-edge chop!






Birdman then grabs Cross by the wrist and whips him towards the barricade, only for Cross to reverse. Birdman leaps into the air as he approaches the barricade, landing gracefully on his feet and then springs back towards Cross…






… Only for Iron Mike to blast him out of the sky with a ferocious Thrust Kick!


“Brilliant counter by Iron Mike!” praises King. Mike pulls Birdman to his feet and leads him by the back of head towards the corner of the ring… where he slams the Bird face-first into the steel ring steps! Cross rolls Birdman back into the ring and then slides into the ring himself. He pulls Birdman back to his feet and grabs him by the wrist, whipping him across the ring and snatching him up in a bearhug as he rebounds, driving the Bird into the canvas with a tremendous Railgun suplex! Cross clambers over and applies a cover:


















Birdman kicks out at two! Cross pulls Birdy to his feet and doubles him over at the waist, standing to one side and measuring him before unleashing a battery of kneelifts to the side of Birdman’s face! Birdy staggers woozily but won’t fall, until Iron Mike runs to the ropes, sweeping his right leg behind Birdman’s as he drives the Bird to the canvas with a running STO Takeover! Cross applies a lateral press:













Birdman again kicks out at two! Cross pulls Birdman up to his feet and traps him in a front facelock before reaching down to grab his near leg; Iron Mike pops his hips as he lifts Birdman into the air and quickly brings him back down with a snap suplex! Cross rolls back to his feet and heads over to a nearby corner; he climbs up onto the middle turnbuckle and leaps off, crushing Birdy’s skull with a jumping double stomp! He reaches across Birdman’s body to hook the leg…


















No! Birdman just gets the shoulder up! Cross gets to his feet and poses for the fans, who respond accordingly:





“Michael Cross was able to score with that Avalanche Head Trauma,” notes Mak, “but Birdman found it within himself to kick out!”


“Birdman may have been able to kick out of that,” replies King, “but he’s going to be on the defensive now; Michael Cross turned the tide of this match with that dropkick to the knee, and now Birdman will have to wrestle defensively which, despite his improvement as a wrestler, is something that he still has yet to prove that he’s consistently capable of doing.”


Cross pulls Birdman to his feet and grabs him by the wrist, whipping him across the ring, and lowering his head as the Bird rebounds to lift him into the air with a backdrop, but the Bird flips all the way through and lands on his feet behind Iron Mike. Birdman runs to the edge of the ring, but Michael springs off the canvas as he bounces off the ropes and locks his legs around Birdy’s neck, arching backwards as he takes him over with a Hurricanrana!


“Beautiful Rana,” exclaims Mak, as Long dives into position. “And Michael Cross is feeling it right now!”






















Birdman kicks out from the pinfall attempt, but not without considerable effort. Cross pulls him up to his feet and then scoops him up, extending his thigh as he drops the Bird back down into a pendulum backbreaker! Cross immediately pulls him back to his feet and tucks his head underneath Birdy’s arm, as he lifts him up into a Northern Lights Suplex!


“Cross is going for the Triple Northern Lights!” cries Mak, as Michael rolls over onto his knees and pulls Birdy up for the second suplex.


“If he hits all three, this match is over!” shouts King. Cross inadvertently rolls closer to the edge of the ring as he pulls Birdman up a third time. He lifts the Bird overhead and slams him back down with the third suplex, holding him for the pinfall as Long delivers the count:
















“Not quite!” yells Mak. “Birdman’s foot is on the ropes!”


“Figures that he’d try something that cowardly!” gripes King. Iron Mike pulls Birdy back to his feet and whips him into the ropes, lowering his head to deliver a back-body drop that sends Birdman hurtling through the air!


“Big backdrop by Iron Mike,” says Mak. “Michael Cross has it locked in right now!” Cross pulls Birdy to his feet, but the Bird appears to still have some starch left in him, as he begins to rifle punches into Iron Mike’s midsection. Birdman runs to the ropes, but Cross gives chase, and clotheslines him over the top rope as he begins to rebound!


“Tremendous heads up move there by Iron Mike!” Cross reaches between the top and middle ropes to pull Birdman back onto the apron, where he traps him in a front facelock.


“He’s going to try and suplex him in!” shouts King. Cross lifts Birdman up over the top rope and begins to fall back into the ring, but the Bird shifts his weight as he begins to fall and lands atop his opponent! He remains on top as Long counts:

















“Kickout,” shouts King. “Birdman hasn’t done enough damage to take him out!” Birdman rolls away from Cross, and then returns to his feet. He runs towards Iron Mike as he gets to his feet and leaps into the air…







… But Michael catches him in midair and spins him around, driving him down onto his knee with a tilt-a-whirl backbreaker!


“Tremendous tilt-a-whirl,” cries Mak. “He got him that time!”


“Birdman is down and out,” adds King, as Cross heads over to the corner. “But what the hell is Cross doing?”


Michael steps out onto the ring apron and climbs up to the top turnbuckle. Without a word, he leaps off of the turnbuckle and flips forward into the ring, poised to execute a Sunset Flip …






… But the Bird suddenly springs off the canvas and knocks Cross out of the air with a standing dropkick!


“Michael Cross wanted to end this match with Sunset Flip,” cries Mak, “but he appeared to have tried that move prematurely!”


“Absolutely,” agrees King, as Birdman uses the ropes to pull himself back to his feet. “This is the time when you want to rub Birdman’s face into the mat, and continue to wear him down; there was no need to try to go for the ‘home run’ there! Now he’s given Birdman a little bit of breathing room… and we both know that a little bit is all that Birdman needs to turn the tables on a match!”


Birdman pulls Cross to his feet and grabs him by the wrist, whipping him across the ring into the opposite turnbuckle! Before Iron Mike can even stagger out of the corner, the Bird launches himself forward with breakneck speed, leaping into the air as he draws near the corner and twisting his body around…






… Crashing into the Suicide Machine with a Stinger splash!


“Stinger Splash,” shouts Mak. “That move drives all of the air right out of you! That could be the break that Birdman needs to take over this match!” Birdman races towards the edge of the ring as Cross staggers out of the corner, and leaps into the air to hook Cross with the Bulldog…






… But Iron Mike spins around and nearly decapitates Birdman with a rolling elbow! He collapses atop Birdy in a lateral press:

















But only gets two! “No way!” croaks King. “Where did he find the energy to kick out of that?” Michael pulls Birdman to his feet and pushes him against the ropes, attempting to pound his way through Birdman’s suit with heavy clubbing forearm blows; Iron Mike then grabs Birdman by the wrist and whips him across the ring. The Suicide Machine grabs Birdman as he bounces off the ropes and lifts him up into a bearhug…






… Before driving him down onto his knee with an inverted Atomic Drop! As Birdman bends clutches his lower body in pain, Cross runs back towards the ropes, and launches himself back towards the Bird with surprising speed, his arm extended to deliver a fierce running clothesline…







… But as quick as Michael is, Birdman is even quicker, and he ducks the clothesline attempt, cupping his hands under Iron Mike’s neck from behind, leaping into the air and bringing Cross down spine-first down across his knees with an explosive Lungblower!


“Lungblower,” shrieks Mak. “Birdman still had enough left in the tank to duck that clothesline, and hit the Lungblower on Cross!”


Iron Mike flops over onto his back as Birdman pulls himself to his feet.


“Birdman’s heading up to the top!” shouts Mak. “That looks like just the opening that the Birdman was waiting for! And that’s big trouble for Michael Cross!” Birdman leaps effortlessly onto the top rope and looks out to the crowd to give them one final salute before delivering the coup de grace:




Birdman: CAW, CAW!

Crowd: CAW, CAW!



Birdman leaps fearlessly from the top rope…






… And nails Michael Cross with the Bird Dropping! Eddy Long quickly dives into position to count the shoulders:























The crowd explodes as “Let’s Get Retarded” begins to play again. Long raises Birdman’s hand in victory as Funyon makes the official announcement.


“Here is your winner, the Birdman!”


“Another one bites the dust for the Birdman!” exclaims Mak. “It’s official, folks: Birdman is back in the mix! We’ll be back with more Smarkdown right after this; stay with us!”

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“Hey, what’s up?” Landon Maddix asks, sitting down on the bench in the dressing room next to his tag team partner. Michael Stephens doesn’t reply at first and just continues to stare into the distance, so Landon asks the question again.


“I’m thinking,” Stephens replies finally.


“About how to win the match tonight?” Landon asks, tapping his nose, “no worries, I’ve been thinking about that for… oh, the last fifteen minutes! See, what I think we’ve got to do is-”


“-no, not about that,” the Englishman cuts him off, “I’ve been thinking about whether we should win the match.”


“…say what?”


“Look, the only other time I won the Tag Titles was at the end of 2004,” Stephens tells Maddix, “when Sean and I beat Todd Cortez and that shit Van Siclen for them. A few weeks later, BANG! I lose the World Title to you.” He looks down reflectively at the Big Gold Belt sitting beside him. “I’m not normally suspicious, but… I dunno. If we win them tonight, is that just going to make me less focused to meet Flesher at Genesis?”


“Look at it this way,” Landon says encouragingly, “if we win tonight, you’ll have taken his title and unsettled him before I take the Cruiserweight Belt, and then you can keep your title at Genesis!” He slaps his partner on the back. “Come on, we’ll do great! Even Amy and Megan have stopped fighting!”


“Amazing,” Stephens says, “how many sedatives did it take?”


“Look, we have got one problem though,” Landon says, turning around to face his partner, “at least, you might view it as a problem…”


“…go on.”


“Well, I told Peters that I didn’t like our new theme much,” Maddix admits, “so he asked me to suggest a new one. And I gave him a big long list.”


“Yeah, I know,” Stephens replies, “he told me, I did the same thing.”


“Well, would you believe that not a single song or artist came up on both lists?” Maddix says, his manner reflecting the sheer chaotic nature of the universe. And indicating something bad.




“Well, Peters said that he wasn’t going to favour one of us over the other, so from now on we don’t get a regular entrance theme.”


“Oh God,” Stephens says, covering his eyes, “what?”


“…we’re going to come out to whatever Peters’ iPod Shuffle stops on that night,” Landon says, waiting for an explosion. Instead Michael Stephens just gets up, picks up the World Title and walks out of the room.


“I’ve died. I’m being forced to tag with Landon Maddix, Gabe fuckin’ Drake is in the same company, and now I don’t even know what my entrance music’s going to be. I could be coming out to 50 Bloody Cent. I’ve died, and I’ve gone to hell…”

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A dead whale pans hand-held (flipper-held?) camera around the Rexall Place (Is it just me, or do a lot of these dirty Commie-Canuck arenas just slap 'Place' on the name?), perhaps after coming back from a back-stage segment, but maybe not, who knows, it's fuckin' live television! Anything goes, baby! Well, within the confines of the laws of physics, I mean, you won't be seeing Dace Night melt into a puddle of mercury, nor Mercury fly through a pony. Anyway, Smarkdown, and match time super fun hats~!


"What an exciting night so far," begins Mak (The use of the word 'begins' is a strong indicator that the Suicide King is about to interrupt him. Let's read on to find out if that happens).


"I'm shocked that good matches were able to take place in this sink-hole of entertainment known as Edmonton," King interjects (Hey, he did!).


"And up next, well, more like right now, we've got a World title contendership match, with Jay Hawke taking on current Hardcore champ, Jimmy the Doom," Francis says.


"I really, really hope that the Crimson Skull pounds Jimmy into tiny bits," King says.


"He really suckered everyone in with that whole Doomstroyer schtick, and I have to believe that Jimmy is more focused on getting revenge than this match against Jay Hawke," Mak says.


"That's a good thing, then. Should mean Jay will tear him apart in thirty seconds."


"Hawke did manage to survive that ten minute hardcore challenge, and I think that in a standard match, he'll fair very well against the current Hardcore champ," the Franchise says.


Due to time constraints, Jay Hawke is already in the ring. In fact, he's been standing there for like five minutes, chatting with Funyon about how to control 'downstairs' sweat. Anyway, lights drop out, some druids march, a light actually drops, killing one, and "Yakety Sax" plays. Jimmy, sporting a small bandage on his forehead (Shit, dude's hairline is so far back, he's got a fivehead!) and Lois walk out, the Unethical One carrying Jimmy's belt.


"The following match is scheduled for one fall, and will determine the number one contender to the World title! Currently in the ring, from Ohio (Where the are four dead!), 'the Dean of Professional Wrestling', Jay Hawke! And walking to the ring, the Hardcore champ, from Doomtopia, which totally exists, Jimmy the Doom!" Funyon shouts.


Funyon exits the ring and referee Jeff Jefferson pats down both men. He comes up empty (lolz) and calls for the bell and stuff.




Jimmy goes straight for the Hawke-Man (Not to be confused with Hawk Man, a superhero that could fly, and that's it. He was barely better than Aquaman, because, seriously, flying is to a superhero like walking is to a marathon runner. You're expected to at least be able to do that.), and pops him with a shotei. Doom lashes out for another, but Jay is too fast and takes Doom down with a drop toe hold. Hawke slides around, stretches out Jimmy's right arm, and begins throwing knees into the limb.


"Jay Hawke looking to soften up Jimmy's arm, and if he can lock in the Wing Span now, he'd just have to wait things out, because I seriously doubt that the Doomtopian is on par with Hawke, technically speaking," Mak says.


"Jimmy isn't on par with a bowl of salad dressing," King points out.


"Well, of course not. Jimmy does not make my salad taste delicious, nor is he easily pourn. Poured? Not easy to pour."


Instead of going for the Wing Span, Hawke slaps on a simple armbar, but Doom manages to claw his way to the ropes, forcing a break (After, of course, Jeff reached four and nine-tenths, because you'd have to be super-retarded to think Jay Hawke would let go of a hold immediately). The Straight-Bread Sensation stands up and whips Hawke to the ropes. Jay ducks a clothesline attempt, bounces off the opposite set of ropes, and nails Doom with a flying thumb to the eye.


"Jay Hawke pulling a page out of Tom Flesher's book with that eye poke," Mak says.


"Tom, of course, isn't that prone to leave his feet, especially not for an eyeball gouge," King says. "That kind of dedication is why he is a two-time World champ."


"He's been World champion two times because he stays on his feet when poking people in the eye?" Mak questions.


"Of course! I was foolhardy in my day and would flip around that ring in a desperate attempt to poke eyes, and you see where that got me, sitting next to you," King laments.


Jimmy springs to his feet, in a violent rage after receiving his hojillionth thumb to the eye (Well, perhaps not a hojillion times, especially since that is not a real number, but it's been a fuckin' lot.) and races towards Hawke. Doom unleashes a flurry of enraged elbows, knees, and palms, some of which actually connect with Jay Hawke's person (Not his own body, but this totally sweet person he picked up for cheap off eBay.). Jefferson tries to break things up but only gets hit with a wicked two-handed palm thrust from Doom, AKA he got shoved (Which was the sequel to You Got Served, only it totally wasn't). Jeff tumbles head over heels, rolls around and ends up face-down on the mat. With the assault stopped momentarily, Hawke springs into action and knees Jimmy in the crotch.


"And Doom has inadvertantly taken out the referee, leading to Jay Hawke very advertantly hitting Jimmy in the groin," Mak says.


"I can see only good coming from this," says King.


Just at that moment, Heff, evil (bumbling, trust me, you'll see in a minute) assistaint to the Crimson Skull appears at the top of the ramp, a large rock firmly clutched in his hand. Like an evil blur, Heff takes off down the ramp and he climbs on the apron. Holding on to the top rope for support, Heff cocks back his rock arm and swings for the back of Jimmy's skull. Unfortunately for Heff, Jay Hawke had been planning on snaring the Straight-Breader with a front facelock, which he did, and yoinking him to the mat with a DDT, which he did not, as instead, 'the Dean of Professional Wrestling' gets smacked in the face with a big-ass rock. Jay falls backwards, without Doom, and Heff, realizing his mistake, attempts to rectify this by swinging at Jimmy's head. The Straight-Bread Sensation takes a blow full-on, but it's very likely that Heff's rock was chipped from Jimmy's skull, and the Doomtopian pokes Heff in the throat, hops back, and karate kicks him off the apron.


"God damn you, Heff," King mutters.


"I have a feeling you aren't the only one saying or thinking that right now," Mak states.


Jimmy stumbles backwards as his forehead (You mean fivehead, it's huge!) drips blood, and pulls Jefferson off the mat. Jeff questions how Hawke got in such a position, but Jimmy is able to truthfully inform the ref that it was through no illegal doing on behalf of the Doomtopian. And stuff. Anyway, the Straight-Breader pulls Hawke to his knees, Jimmy motors for the ropes, bounces back, and flies towards Jay, smashing him in the head with a flying front kick. Jimmy rolls 'the Dean of Professional Wrestling' up, and Jeff makes the count.

































































"Ladies and gentlemen, the winner of this match, and number one contender to the World title, Jimmy the Doom!" Funyon yells.


Doom gets up and looks leans across the top rope, looking for Heff, but that wacky assistaint has sped away to lick his wounds, or maybe just lick a tasty seal-pop, the favorite dessert among Canadians.


"And Jimmy the Doom has won the match, with some unlikely help in the former of the Crimson Skull's helper, Heff! I bet Skull won't be pleased at all with the way that turned out," Mak says.


"No shit, Sherlock. That dorkus can't even hit someone with a fuckin' rock correctly! He needs to go train at the Palestinian Rock Throwing Academy. Now, granted, they forcus more on the rock as a projectile, but, still, you learn basic rock techniques," King says.


With that, Smarkdown fades to magenta, because it's a nice, pleasant color, and it's not harsh and negative, like black. Add your own twisted racist implications, you crazy kids!

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We’re back from another scintillating shill session and ready for some action! Fortunately for you you’ve tuned into SWF Smarkdown where we’ve got it in spades. Wu-tang Clan’s “Protect Ya Neck” is pumped out over the speakers as the challenger steps into the arena and into the spotlight




The Canadian crowd is ON tonight as they greet the man that 99% of them hopes will walk out of the Rexall Place with the gold. The Divine Wind slaps a few hands as he heads for the ring but looks extremely focused tonight, after all a golden opportunity such as this doesn’t come around that often.


”Wu-Tang Clan comin at ya, protect ya neck kid, so set it off

de Inspector Deck

watch ya step kid”


“Akira looks READY!!” Mak confidently states as the Japanese superstar leaps up on the apron and then steps through the ropes


“He better be Mak or Blank will eat him alive, hell he may just do that even if Akira is ready” King replies.


”Watch ya step kid”


Akira raises his right hand to acknowledge the cheers of the fans as his music slowly dies down to be replaced with the Southern rock sounds of Lynyrd Skynyrd as the tell everyone to “don’t ask me no questions”




”Well every time that I come home nobody wants to let me be

Seems that all the friends I got just got to come interrogate me

Well I appreciate your feelings and I don't want to pass you by

But I don’t ask you about your business don't ask me about mine”


The crowd quickly shows their disapproval of the International champion. Quickly, repeatedly and very, very loudly as they wait for the big man to enter the arena.


“Finally someone we can all admire Mak, a man that brings a certain seriousness to the International Title” the Suicide King shills.


“Yeah he brings something to the title alright, but it’s nothing nice” Mak counters.


“How can you say that? He’s an excellent champion, he personifies what the title is all about.”


“So now the International title is all about cheating and hitting people with stuff? Talk about how it’s fallen since Jay Hawke or Wildchild held the title”


”Well it's true I love the money

And I love my brand new car

I like drinking the best of whiskey

Playin’ in a Honky Tonk bar”


Everyone is expecting the same old dirty rotten scoundrel Bruce to step through the ropes but tonight he’s just a rotten scoundrel as he’s cleaned up his appearance considerably. Gone are the blood splattered jeans, the battered Crimson Tide jersey and the cowboy boots, instead Bruce is wearing actual wrestling gear probably at the insistence of his image consultant. Wayne Blank accompanies his brother as they step into the spotlight with the younger brother pointing to his brother as if he needed to draw attention to Bruce’s new red tights and red single strap single that brings a certain Tennessee King to mind.


“Well damn Bruce is making an effort tonight” Mak comments as Bruce is starting to look like an actual wrestler and not some trucker who just walked in off the streets.


“When you’re as awesome a champion as Bruce it’s natural you want to look the part Mak and tonight he really does” King adds.


"So, don't ask me no questions

And I won't tell you no lies

So, don't ask me about my business

And I won't tell you goodbye"


Wayne stays on the floor as Bruce enters the ring. The big man adjusts the red elbow pad on his right arm and then taps the International title around his waist as if to tell Akira that the belt is staying with him. Once the music dies down Funyon takes center stage to introduce the two combatants.


“Ladies and Gentlemen the following match is an “I Quit” match, with NO time limit and it is for the SWF International Heavyweight Title!!”


“Heavyweight?” Mak notes never having heard it referred to as such before.


“At 295 Bruce isn’t exactly a Lightheavyweight now is he?” King fires back.


“Introducing first on my right, from Sendai, Japan fighting tonight at a weight of 195 pounds a former SWF Cruiserweight and SWF Tag-Team champion making his second challenging for the International Title– here is “The Divine Wind” AKIRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA KAIBATSU!!




Akira takes 2 step out of the corner and raises his hand to greet the Canadian crowd. Apparently there are more than a few fans of Japanese wrestling in the arena tonight as a myriad of maroon streamers are thrown up in the air from Akira’s “home corner” by excited fans that hope to see their favorite walk out of here with the gold. It’s a gesture that the young man seems to appreciate as he turns around and gives his fans a short, respectful bow.


“Oh brother” the Suicide King mumbles as he loathes all kinds of sportsmanship.


“AAAAAAAAAAAND his opponent from the Dirty Tornado Trailer Park in Mobile Alabama with a fighting weight of 295 pounds, the man that redefined the Hardcore division for 213 days, in his second title defense here is the ESS DUBAYA EFF INTERNATIONAL HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPIOOOOOOOOOOOOON BRUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCE BLAAAAAAAANK!!




As his name is mentioned Bruce reaches back and upstraps the gold belt to hold it up while he awaits HIS streamers. It seems that Bruce doesn’t quite have as many rabid fans (or indeed fans at all) so he’ll have to settle for a lone roll of toilet paper tossed into the ring from 10 rows back or so.


“Disrespectful” King mumbles


“Yeah I mean what if someone needed that in the bathroom” Mak quips.


Bruce hands the title to referee Mathew Kivell and then turns back to his corner where he casually leans back on the ropes while shooting the breeze with Wayne like this match is no big deal at all. Kivell holds the International title up in the air for everyone to see before handing it off and calling for the bell.




With a wink and a thumbs up to his brother on the floor Bruce approaches Akira, raising his hands as he gets closer, ready for a collar and elbow lock up. Akira surprises Bruce by ducking under the massive arms, then he bounces off the ropes on the opposite corner before trying to hit a twisting arm drag on Bruce. The burst of speed surprises Bruce but he stands his ground none the less, using his enormous power. Bruce twists the Divine Wind around so that he has him in a wheelbarrow suplex position, raising the smaller man up into the air looking to do some damage early on


“Oh I wouldn’t do that” Mak warns Bruce, but of course Bruce can’t hear what the wheelchair bound Franchise has to say




Akira turns the lift up into a Bulldog on his opponent as he drops Bruce to the ground hard and then quickly kips up much to the approval of the fans in the arena. Bruce is only momentarily stunned by the move and quickly gets back to his feet. He notices his opponent coming at him full speed, Bruce ducks down and throws Kaibatsu up in the air with a high elevation back drop


“Akira just flipped round and landed on his feet!!” Mak yells out as Akira displays his cat like reflexes by twisting his body around to land safely


“No, no, no Bruce didn’t see it! he’s walking right into a” King exclaims




Akira’s right foot nails Bruce square on his jaw, knocking the Redneck Superman backwards into the ropes which then bounce him forward to the mat. Akira Kaibatsu points to the top rope, drawing a pop as he crawls up the turnbuckles and then walks down the top rope like it was a stroll down any side walk.


“OH COME ON!! You mean to tell me that the referee did not see Wayne reach up and push the top rope?” Mak yells out as Akira takes a tumble off the ropes thanks to a case of “Wayne-ference”


“Now you’re just talking crazy talk, it’s so humid here in Alberta he probably slipped on the rope” King says denying any and all wrong doings on Wayne’s part.


A frustrated Bruce rolls to the floor to clear his head and try to get a game plan together, or maybe he’s just trying to get something from Wayne as his younger brother tries to clandestinely pulls something from his pocket and hand it to Bruce. After shaking off the spill to the canvas Akira shows that it’ll take more than that to keep him down by climbing the ropes and then leaps off backwards in a stunning high elevation Moonsault that knocks both Bruce and Wayne down




“Look at the elevation on that leap!!” Mak says in amazement as we’re treated to a split screen shot with Akira’s breathtaking leap displayed on the right side once more.


“Dirty cheater, Wayne was just minding his own business” King scoffs


Akira slides under the bottom rope and then demonstrates his amazing stamina by once again running at the ropes, bouncing off for greater speed and then in a breathtaking display of daring and insanity does a handstand flip into a leap OVER THE TOP ROPE onto Bruce who had just gotten back on his feet


“SPACE TIGER DROP!!” Mak calls drawing on his time in Japan for a name for the move.


“Oh you call every move that, you probably don’t even know what that is really called.” The Suicide King says trying to not let on that he didn’t know the name of the move.


The Divine Wind grabs Bruce by the hair and singlet and throws him inside the ring before leaping up on the apron and then climbs the ropes. Akira raises a hand in the air as he waits for Bruce to get to his feet and in the right position getting the entire arena behind him. The International champion soon obliges Akira’s wishes and the man from Japan leaps off the top rope, locks his legs around Bruce’s neck and takes the big man down with a twisting huracanrana that sends Bruce skidding across the canvas.


“SPACE TIGER DROP HOLY SHIT!!” King yells out mocking Mak’s reaction from earlier


“Oh very funny king, just because you don’t know most of Akira’s moves” Mak replies trying his best to not get annoyed by his co-commentator’s antics.


“Oh and another Space Tiger Drop right to the chest” The Suicide King yells out as Akira knocks Bruce down again the second he gets up.


“That was a European Uppercut” Mak replies.


Akira Kaibatsu hooks Bruce in a front face lock, not looking to suplex Bruce as Akira knows full well that he can’t lift him but probably looking to further inflict pain to Bruce’s neck. But Akira’s plans are soon destroyed as Bruce manages to put a hand on the top rope and break up the spinning neck breaker attempt just as Akira tries to turn his body around. After being deined Akira settles for a knee to Bruce’s gut before whipping him into the corner


“Holy damn it’s a virtual cornucopia of Space Tiger Drops here tonight.” King says with a grin


*Sigh* “Where is Longdogger Pete? Can we get Longdogger back please? Riley? Comet?” Mak laments as the Suicide King just won’t drop the Space Tiger Drop joke.


Akira runs at Bruce, leaping into the air for a splash in the corner, but ends up eating nothing but turnbuckle when the champ moves out of the way. Bruce is still rattled by the unexpected and sudden flurry of offence from Akira, allowing his opponent a moment to breathe before he attacks him. Bruce goes for a clothesline but the Divine Wind ducks under it and flips up into a cristo flying head scissors only to flip around the front of Bruce once more confusing the big man with his swift actions before hooking Bruce’s arm with his own, swing around his back and then lock his legs around Bruce’s other arm.


“Standing Abdominal Stretch!” Mak calls before King can make another joke


“Wait, wait, wait I’m still 3 moves behind here” the Suicide King admits as he’s having a hard time keeping up with the swift Akira.


“Yeah by the looks of it so is Bruce.” Mak says.


Bruce manages to break the hold by prying Akira’s legs apart and then swing him around in front of him again hoping to slam him. The slam is blocked however as Kaibatsu swings up on his opponents shoulder and locks a leg over the back of Bruce’s neck forcing the big man into a very, very painful looking bent over Octopus style submission hold that requires Bruce to carry Akira Kaibatsu’ weight as well as his own.


“Space Ti. . . alright I have NO clue what to call that.” King finally admits


“Frankly King I don’t either but it looks very, very painful” Mak replies admitting that he’s at a loss over some of Akira’s unauthodox Japanese inspired offence.


Kivell gets the microphone from Funyon and then returns to where Akira has everything he can move wrapped around Bruce inflicting a lot of pain on the big man.


“What do you say Bruce? Are you read to give up” Kivell asks and then holds the microphone up to Bruce’s mouth.


“I. . . “ Bruce says while breathing heavily, obviously in pain “I’d get that thing out of my face!!” he then yells at Kivell, a reply Kivell takes as a “no” to his question and then removes the microphone.


“Bruce isn’t ready to give it up yet, no matter how many Octo-Puro locks Akira can put on!” King states confidently as Bruce tries his best to resist the pain that Akira is inflicting on him.


“Alright I got to give him a bit of credit, he’s not a push over” Mak admits


“Wow you’re gushing” King replies sarcastically.


After twisting his body so that he’s in the correct position Bruce pushes backwards with both legs driving Akira’s back into the turnbuckles.




And then once more as the first blow wasn’t enough to get Akira off his back.




The second blow is enough to dislodge the Akira-limpid from his back, the follow up Lariat from Bruce is enough to put Akira down though and down hard! With a momentary break in the action Bruce rolls out to the floor both to catch his breath after the high speed onslaught he’s had to fend off and also to vent his frustrations.


“Easy there big man” King admonishes Bruce, hoping that the champ can keep his emotions under control.


“You know what I think?”


“No, nor do I really care”


“I think Bruce came into this match expecting an easy night, he’s been very dismissive of Akira since he won the #1 contendership” Mak explains


To say that Bruce is frustrated is an understatement as he had quite clearly expected an easier night and Akira adds to the frustrations as he kicks Bruce in the chest with a baseball slide drop kick that knocks Bruce back against the guardrail. With Bruce slumped back it’s the perfect position for Akira to leap up on Bruce’s knee and nail him with a Shinning Gamengiri




“WHITE MAGIC ROCKS THE CHAMP!!” Mak yells as Bruce is knocked down by the move.


“You can’t win the match on the floor though Mak, there is no count out here it can only end when one of them says “I quit”. . . or however close Akira can get to saying it” King replies.


Akira is not the inexperience rookie that stepped through the doors almost a year ago, something that he demonstrates by tossing Bruce back inside the ring to work him over even more. With Bruce and very dazed Akira does not resist the temptation to leap up on the top rope so that he can strike Bruce with an elbow drop before the champ has a moment to regain his bearings.


“OH YEAH!! Akira is keeping the champ under control, he’s playing this extremely smart tonight King”


“Oh leave me alone” King snaps annoyed over Akira’s success in the ring.


After the elbow drop Akira is in the perfect position to wrap his right hand around Bruce’s head so that he can get a grip on Bruce’s wrist




”The Anaconda Vice! This could be the end King – new champion coming up!” Mak says as Akira tries to slide his right hand into position.


Bruce reacts more out of instinct than anything and quickly gets his feet on the rope before Akira can even complete the Anaconda Vice. Kivell doesn’t even have to start the count as Akira releases the hold the moment he’s aware of Bruce’s feet on the ropes. Instead he gets back to his feet, runs at Bruce, rolls forward, flipping over Bruce’s back. As he rolls over Bruce’s back he grabs the International champion around the jaw with both hands as he rolls over him thus wrenching backwards on the big man neck. Finally he bridges into a as he maintains his tight grip on Bruce’s jaw in the profess.


“What the fuck do you call that?” Mak says as he throws his hands up in the air giving up on trying to figure out what Akira is pulling out of the bag tonight.


“That right there is the erm. . . Space. . . Tiger Flipping Clutch Lock” King says as he makes up the name on the spot.


Matthew Kivell pulls out the stick microphone once more and asks Bruce if he’s ready to submit.


“Fuc – OH!!” Bruce yells out as Akira wrenches on Bruce’s neck. After a moment or two Kivell puts the microphone up to Bruce’s face once more “AAAAAAAAAAhhhhh you stupid son of a bitch!!”


“That’s a no Kivell” King says just in case the head referee had any doubts.


Figuring that he probably needs to soften Bruce up a bit more Akira releases his hold on the big man and rolls back to his feet. Against a man of Bruce’s size at least half of Akira’s arsenal is useless because he just can’t throw the big man around like a cruiserweight which causes Akira to dig a bit deeper into his arsenal of tricks tonight. He leaps over the top rope while turning around in one smooth motion. He waits on the apron for a second as Bruce gets up, then he uses the tension of the top rope to leap up, springboard off the top




Akira is caught mid air by an out of the blue Lariat from Bruce after Wayne called attention to Akira’s actions.


“HOLY SHIT!! There are busses that hit with less impact!” King says as the impact flips Akira Kaibatsu 360 degrees in the air before he hits the canvas face first.


“One Lariat doesn’t win you the match though King” Mak says


“Yeah? Tell Danny Williams that”


But Mak is right just because Bruce struck with a Lariat doesn’t mean he’s got the match won, or even that he’s really in control at the moment. Bruce is still suffering the effects of the underestimating Akira, especially after the last neck wrenching experience. Slowly the big man gets his thoughts together, just in time to catch Akira as the Divine Wind gets back to his feet.


“Now we’re talking!!” King says as Bruce plants a Big Boot on the side of Akira’s head


“That move isn’t nearly as effective now that Bruce isn’t wearing cowboy boots King”


“Still hurts to be kicked in the head!”


Opting for a high impact, low risk approach while he’s still trying to recover Bruce drops a knee to Akira’s neck and shoulder area and then for good measure does it once more.


“I told you Bruce took Akira seriously, he never overlooked him” King says trying to dismiss Mak’s earlier claims.


“He takes him serious NOW! Because Akira made him take him seriously”


With both hands grabbing Akira’s hair the Divine Wind has to follow Bruce’s wishes and comes back up to his feet. A massive clubbing forearm shot to the back of Akira’s head sends the Japanese Cruiserweight reeling into the corner where Bruce follows up with another massive forearm shot that punishes Akira’s neck area.




“Canadians obviously don’t appreciate a good old fashioned ass kicking” King deducts from the negative reaction Bruce is drawing.


“Yeah it’s got nothing to do with who’s dishing it out” Mak says with a roll of the eyes.


Akira tries as best he can to protect his neck as Bruce lets clubbing forearm shot after clubbing forearm shot rain down over Kaibatsu. Some blows are deflected by the Divine Wind’s arms but others hitting their target. Bruce Blank reaches under the top rope with one hand as the other presses Akira’s head back, then the big man locks his hands together wrenching Akira’s head back over the top rope in a very odd looking hold.


“Ask him Kivell!!” Bruce demands but since Akira is in the ropes the referee’s reaction is not to reach for the microphone but to raise a finger in the air




Bruce is obviously annoyed that Matthew Kivell won’t allow the submission hold on Akira but keeps it locked on none the less, after all why let go at 1 when you can let go at four?? Once the count does reach four Bruce breaks the hold cleanly by raising both hands in the air and backing off for a step or two – too much blatant rulebreaking can cost him the title after all and that’s the last thing Bruce wants.


“Man that looked PAINFUL!” King says.


“I dunno King, I think Bruce was just trying something, anything out of desperation I don’t know if it hurt Akira that much.”


Bruce turns to Kivell and tells him to back off as he keeps working Akira over in the corner. The arrogant, confident look on Bruce’s face is wiped off though as he turns around only for Akira to use the top rope to lift his body up and land a double kick to Bruce’s chest




Followed by Akira leaping off the second rope, hooking his legs around Bruce’s neck and bringing him to the ground with a snapping huracanrana. After taking Bruce down with the huracanrana Akira quickly shifts his position to the left of Bruce, hooks the big man’s left arm with his own right arm and then inserts the other arm to complete the Anaconda Vice before Bruce has a chance to react




“Oh fuck!” King mutters not caring how many letters of complaint the SWF will get over that sort of language.


Bruce screams in agony as the Divine Wind shakes his body trying his best to get Bruce’s massive arm into the perfect position. Kivell is quick to whip out the microphone and hold it up to Bruce’s face as Akira adjusts his position once more to try and get the best leverage possible.


“NO! AAAARRRHHH!” Bruce yells out as Kivell puts the microphone up to his mouth “Fuck you you stupid Japanese asshole!!”


A comment like that can only mean one thing, Akira needs to twist the move a bit more the inflict even more pain on Bruce.


“AAAAAAH Damn it!!” the King of Pain screams out as he himself is in a royal amount of pain “WAAAAAAAAAAAAYNE!!”


As much as he’d like his brother to help out Kivell is alert and stops the younger Blank brother before he can even get up on the apron. When Matthew Kivell turns his back on Bruce the big man tries to poke Akira in the eye but Akira ducks down and avoids the finger.


“Akira can’t have it on properly or it’d be over already” Mak says since the Anaconda Vice usually gets the submission much faster.


“It’s Bruce we’re talking about, the largest arms in the whole damn federation! It’s not that easy to get a move like that on right” King replies.


After struggling for position and leverage Akira FINALLY gets Bruce’s arm into the right position and has the Anaconda Vice locked on perfect, inducing the maximum amount of pain on his opponent.


“What do you say Bruce? Do you quit?” Kivell asks


“I. . . “ Bruce says as he breathes heavily “I Q. . “ But that’s all he says as he finally manages to get his free hand on Akira’s face and then viciously gouges Kaibatsu’s eyes with his taped up fingers.




“It may not be pretty but it is effective” King says like that makes it alright.


Once Akira releases the hold Bruce rolls to the floor, just wanting to get away for a moment to give his left arm a chance to recover. Wayne even comes out and starts to rub Bruce’s sore arm, hoping to help him back in the game. Akira steps through the ropes and then pulls himself up on the second rope to give him even more of a angle as he leaps at Bruce with a cross body block as Wayne scarpers out of the way.


“HOLY SHIT!! He caught him right in mind air” King yells out as Bruce wraps his arms around Akira just as he hits Bruce and manages to stay standing despite taking a couple of steps back.


“That’s pure power King, it’s Bruce’s bread and butter and it’s working for him right now” Mak admits as Bruce shifts Akira’s body a bit so that he’s draped over his shoulder.


Bruce looks over his shoulder, adjusts his position on the floor a bit and then he twists his body and thus also Akira’s body that’s trapped in his grips. The twist has one single solitary brutal purpose, to ram Akira’s head and neck into the ring post with a sickening




With a sadistic grin on his face Bruce repeats the sickening move and slams Akira’s head sideways into the ringpost a second time






“Oh this is obscene King!! Bruce is deliberately trying to reinjure Akira’s neck, it’s one thing to work it over but this is Bruce trying to cripple his opponent” Mak says with disgust as he watches Bruce just dump Akira back in the ring like he was a sack of potatoes.


“What better way to get Akira to quit? If the neck is an issue then maybe Mr. Windy shouldn’t have returned so prematurely? Don’t blame Bruce blame Akira.” King says as he dismisses Mak’s hogwash.


“Blame Akira??” Mak asks as he feels an aneurism rapidly coming on.


The two blows to the ringpost seems to really have done a number on Akira’s neck as the young man from Japan is rolling around on the canvas clutching his head trying to make the pain go away. Bruce isn’t about to give Akira a moment to recover, he’s made that mistake once in this match and he’s not about to do it again. After a swift kick to the neck Bruce drags Akira’s head up and pins it between his knees as he lifts the Divine Wind up into a pile driver position.


“Oh no, no, no, no” Mak laments as Bruce adjusts his grip on Akira.


“It’s time to take Akira to school!” King says with a grin as Bruce falls backwards driving the top of Akira’s skull into the canvas.






After the pile driver Bruce hooks Akira’s right arm with his legs as he lies down and then wraps his hands around Akira’s head and begins to pull backwards applying a Crippler Cross face on his helpless opponent


“Where the hell did Bruce pick that one up?” King blurts out surprised that Bruce Blank would even know a hold like this.


“Desperate men do desperate things it would seem” Mak replies as he crosses everything he can cross hoping that it will help Akira out.


Matthew Kivell pulls the microphone out once again and holds it up to Akira’s face


“n. . . NO!!” Akira screams out.


Akira refusing to give up pisses Bruce off, making the big man reach forward a bit more before pulling back hard to REALLY put the pressure on Akira’s neck.


“Do you give up Akira?” Kivell asks once more.




”The fans are rallying King, the fans do not want to see this young man give up” Mak says as the chant grows louder and louder.


After a couple of seconds more of Bruce twisting Akira’s neck into a very unnatural and very painful position Akira finally speaks


“Hai!” he screams out and then adds “I quit, Quit! Matei!! Matei!!”


“SON OF A BITCH!!” Mak yells out as the referee calls for the bell.




When the bell rings Bruce immediately releases his grip and rolls off Akira as the crowd boos him like he just stole all the bacon in Canada.


“Bruce did it!! Bruce retains!!” King yells out in excitement as Bruce gets to his feet.


When Matthew Kivell goes to raise Bruce’s left arm in the air the big man winces in agony still feeling the effects of the Anaconda Vice. Instead Bruce takes the International title with his right hand and holds it up in the air as Funyon makes the announcement.


“The winner of the match. . . and STILL International champion, BRUCEEEEEEEEEEEE BLANK!!”


“Bruce almost paid the price for looking past Akira, a mistake that could have cost him the title” Mak interjects.


“Yeah, yeah, yeah but he DID win so get over it” King replies as Smarkdown goes to one final commercial break before the main event.

Edited by chirs3

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“It’s time for the main event,” Mak Francis exclaims, “and King, you’ve gotta believe that this is going to be one of the free TV matches of the year; three former World Champions and the current World Champion, the current Cruiserweight Champion and his number one contender, and to cap it off it sounds like the Cruiserweight Champion might now be the number one contender for the World Title… and they’re all competing for the Tag Titles!”


“All smells a bit Kliq-y to me,” Suicide King sniffs.


“Look who’s talking.”


The aura of tension in the Rexall Place is palpable. Everyone knows that they’re about to see four of the SWF’s top athletes go head-to-head. Funyon slowly walks up the steps to the ring and steps through the ropes, then prepares his microphone…














“What the hell is this?” the Suicide King says, looking around in astonishment, “no-one in the SWF uses this music… do they?”


It seems that they do, because the Smarktron is flashing up images of two rather familiar looking athletes; familiar because they are, respectively, the former and current SWF World Heavyweight Champions… and they’ve just made their way to the top of the entrance ramp.




“What the hell are they doing coming out to this?” King asks, appalled, “wasn’t Lostprophets bad enough!?”


“Ah King you’re just jealous, it’s the Beastie Boys!”


Indeed, striding down the ramp with the cheers of the Canadian crowd echoing around them come the challengers; Landon Maddix, trenchcoated as usual and with a cocky smirk on his face as he flicks his blonde hair from his face, followed closely by Megan Skye. On the other side of the ramp is his tag team partner - and as of Lockdown, they really did start to look like a team of sorts - and former mortal enemy, Michael Stephens; the Englishman looks more focused than Landon, but also grimmer. He doesn’t smile as much these days. Bringing up the rear with a can in her hand is his younger sister Amy.


“And why are the women out here?” Suicide King asks, “just here to make trouble and screw Tom and Charlie out of their tag titles, I’ll bet!”


“Megan could be, quite possibly,” Francis agrees as Megan climbs up and holds the ring ropes open for Landon while Michael Stephens rolls underneath, still doing a good job of ignoring his tag team partner. Meanwhile Maddix whirls into the ring, soaking in the (general) good-feeling of the crowd. “However, I’d suggest that Amy Stephens is out here because Flesher and Matthews gave her a spike piledriver a couple of months back, and she won’t be one to let that go easily.”


‘Fight For Your Right To Party’ by the Beastie Boys has now started to fade out and the entire audience looks up to the entrance ramp. They know, they just know that the Tag Champions will have something ‘special’ lined up for them tonight, and although they’re dreading it they have a morbid fascination.


The lights drop.


There is a faint rushing sound that gradually rises until it becomes recognisable as the sound of waves… of the sea…


“Oh God no…” Mak says, wishing he could raise his hands to bury his head in them.


A flute is now audible playing a delicate, haunting melody… and suddenly gets overridden by the scratchy, nails-on-a-chalkboard voice of James Matheson as he appears at the top of the ramp:


“Skinny and white you most certainly are,” he sneers, “and if you’re the best the SWF tag team division has to offer then I’m going to recommend that my clients start buying trousers with a couple of extra inches on the waists to accommodate the belts that will most assuredly be theirs for a very long time… but now,” he continues, “allow me to introduce, hailing from CANADA~!, at a combined weight of 535.9lbs, YOUR SWF World Tag Team Champions, ‘Edmond’ Tom Flesher and Charlie ‘Albertasaurus’ Matthews!”


‘ Every night in my dreams,

I see you, I feeeeeeeeeeeeel you,

That is how I know you go on…’


As Celine Dion’s ‘My Heart Will Go On’ continues to play, there is a faint rumbling sound and out of the entrance way comes what can only be described as the prow of a ship. And there, standing at the very tip of the bow with their arms outstretched are the figures of Tom Flesher and, behind him, Charlie Matthews.


‘Far across the distance

And spaces between us,

You have come to show you go on…’




“What a sight,” King sighs, “and because it’s Tom and Grappler it’s inspiring without being disturbingly homoerotic.”


“It’s terrifying,” Mak Francis says as the Tag Team Champions climb down from their perch and make their way towards the ring. Thankfully they’ve declined to dress in appropriate clothing for their re-enactment of the most famous scene from ‘Titanic’, and are instead clothed in Canadian hockey jackets with the customary hockey sticks. Because no-one can be Canadian without a hockey stick.


‘Near, far, wherever you are

I believe that the heart does go on…

Once more you open the door

And you’re here in my heart

And my heart will go on and on…’


Flesher and Matthews climb the steps to the ring apron, whereupon Matthews carefully wipes his feet before stepping through the ropes. Flesher strips off his jacket and gives his ‘fans’ a cheerful thumbs-up… before wincing in pain and cradling the heavily-strapped thumb.


“Ah, what a trooper Taamo is,” King sighs, wiping away a tear as Celine Dion fades out, “he’s going into this match injured Mak, I hope you realise his dedication to the cause?”


“His thumb’s not injured,” Francis snaps, “and if it was, it’d only be through repetitive stress injury from repeatedly and deliberately thumbing his opponents in the eye, and that strapping’s only going to make it nastier.”




Charlie Matthews rolls his arms and gently eases his neck around, loosening up before stepping towards the middle of the ring while Flesher takes up his place on the apron. Meanwhile, the team of Maddix and Stephens still seem to be having difficulty working out which one should start the match until Landon looks up and sees the hosseriffic Matthews advancing. Just like he did against Rageheart, and just like against the Doomstroyer, La Cucaracha turns around to give his partner the honour of starting against the big man on the opposite team… but this time Michael Stephens catches his arm.


And holds up a clenched fist.


“The team could be breaking down already,” Mak Francis says in some concern… but no, because Stephens is merely demanding a game of rock paper scissors.










‘Awww!’ Landon groans as his scissors are blunted by Mike’s rock; he looks up hoping for a best of three but a chuckling Stephens has stepped out to the apron and left Landon to it. Muttering to himself, the Spanish-American turns around, still looking mournfully at the two extended fingers that are causing him to start the match… and nearly bumps into Charlie Matthews.


Grappler raises his hands, mockingly inviting Landon in for a lock-up.


Landon looks down at his two ‘scissor’ fingers again… then reaches up and jabs Charlie in the eyes!




“CHEAT!” King thunders with righteous fury, and indeed Matthew Kivell does warn Landon about his nefarious tactics, but La Cucaracha is more interested in giving Tom Flesher the bird as a little payback-by-proxy for the eye-jabs he suffered in their Cruiserweight Contendership match before Ground Zero. However, the young Dakotan quickly gets himself back on track and grabs Matthews by the hair, then starts firing kicks into the big man’s face!








Once finished Landon doesn’t stop there, as he takes Matthews in a quick front facelock and spins to one side; it’s an effort to get Grappler’s much larger frame to follow him, but when it does the big man comes crashing down feeling the effects of the swinging neckbreaker. Landon doesn’t even go for a cover; instead he pops back up and heads for his corner where Michael Stephens has his hand extended, and with the tag made the World Champion vaults up to the top rope, then comes off with a fistdrop that connects squarely with Grappler’s forehead.


“It’s blasphemy!” King snarls, “this entire match will now be tainted with Landon’s cheating ways!”


“Oh, give it a rest,” Mak sighs as Stephens, playing by the rules as ever, neglects to use any underhanded tactics on his bigger opponent and instead brings him up to a sitting position, then slips behind him and applied a seated double-leg nelson, “Landon didn’t do anything that Flesher and indeed, Matthews won’t do to him given a chance; I’m not saying it’s good, but it’s understandable. And now they’re working a solid strategy by immediately targeting the neck of Grappler.”


“Cowards,” King hisses.


Charlie Matthews is considerably bigger than most men Stephens generally applies the double-leg nelson to, and it’s entirely feasible that he could power his way out. However Landon hasn’t quite finished playing yet, and he walks up to Charlie to scrape his boot across the big man’s face once…




…three times…


…and with James Matheson screaming about the five-count, Maddix bounces off the ropes and delivers a basement dropkick-style bootscrape to Matthews before rolling out under the bottom rope to avoid a possible DQ! With Flesher looking on sternly from the apron, Michael Stephens releases his hold and brings Grappler down to the mat, then makes a cover…











-but Matthews kicks out with authority, getting his hands under Stephens and actually pushing the much smaller World Champion clean off him!






However, Tom’s attempt at starting a chant doesn’t go down well, and with Grappler trying to rise to his feet the Englishman grabs a front facelock, then without hesitation whips his right arm around and down to smash Matthews’ face back into the canvas with the Unfinished Business!




“Stephens and Maddix certainly starting out at a high speed here,” Mak comments as the World Champion gets back to his feet and tags Maddix, who hops up to the top rope, “it’s probably the best way to deal with a lumbering hoss like Grappler…”


…and Maddix comes off with a diving enzui-headbutt! La Cucaracha doesn’t come off very well from the landing either, but Matthews has clearly been hurt and with Stephens urging him on the Spaniard rolls his big opponent over onto his back, then makes a cover…


















…and Charlie kicks out, although not quite with the same authority as before. He still has plenty of juice to start getting up though, and Landon backs off to get ready to take a run at him. When Matthews approaches a vertical base Maddix runs for the ropes…


…and Flesher, who has quite innocently decided to take a wander along the apron, suffers an involuntary muscle spasm that causes his knee to come up into Maddix’s back.




The Canadian crowd let the Superior One know what they think of him, but the damage is done; Landon’s forward momentum has turned into an unbalanced stagger, and it’s simple for Matthews to lash out with an extended right arm-




-and lariat him nearly out of his boots!


“That was retaliation on Tom’s part,” King snaps before Mak can speak while Flesher protests his innocence to Matty Kivell, “Landon cheated, so that was legal!”


“I’m not sure-”


“I am! Ask Matheson, he’s a lawyer, he can prove it!”


Michael Stephens is staring in despair as his chances of winning the tag titles with a partner he was just starting to gel with take a sudden turn for the worse. There is hope for a second because Matthews falls to one knee after the lariat, but only for a second; then the big man shakes some of the cobwebs off and rises back to his feet before grabbing Landon’s feet and towing the dazed Dakotan over towards the MatFlesh corner. Flesher reaches out and tags himself in off Matthews’ back, and this seems to be a signal for Charlie to start spinning on the spot; however, the big man still has a hold of Landon’s feet and as he starts to spin Landon leaves the mat. The Giant Swing does save him some friction burns, but unfortunately leaves him completely open to-




-catching a basement dropkick to the face, courtesy of one Thomas M. Flesher.




The combined yet opposed momentums of Giant Swing and dropkick work to create a whole rich world of possibilities of pain and little tweeting birds circling one’s head; however, Flesher doesn’t give Landon a chance to sample such delights uninterrupted and covers him, ramming his forearm into Landon’s face as he does so.











-but Landon’s a tough customer and he kicks out before two; Flesher seems mildly offended by this, and takes an opportunity to jam his left thumb into Maddix’s eye while La Cucaracha is still on the mat. Landon rolls away clutching his face and Kivell confronts Flesher about it who, predictably, denies all knowledge even of his own thumb and of Landon having a face, let alone any meeting of the two.


“That makes no sense,” Francis says, “I mean, Landon was down and Tom didn’t have anything to gain from that thumb to the eye - what was the purpose of it except pure spite?”


“I agree,” King nods, “it had no purpose. Since we all know that Tom never does anything without a purpose in the ring, logically he didn’t actually do it, and Matty Kivell should stop making baseless allegations.”


Flesher has taken another option which is simply to ignore the referee, and this he does with the consummate ease of long practice. Accordingly he pursues Maddix across the canvas and grabs a front facelock as La Cucaracha gets up to his knees, then sprawls down completely to the floor before firing a knee up into Landon’s head. The Spaniard’s body jerks from the impact and Flesher hits a couple more for good measure, then looks up and gives Michael Stephens a cheeky wink.




The World Champion is doing a good impression of indicating through his facial expressions that why should he care if Tom Flesher knees Landon Maddix in the head a few times, and indeed in most cases that’d be true, but in this situation both Flesher and Stephens know that the Englishman needs his partner. Stephens hasn’t failed in a title challenge yet, and for that record to be maintained he needs Landon up and running. However, Flesher still has the front facelock on…


…and as he mockingly reaches up to wipe a nonexistent spot of sweat from his brow, Flesher’s jaunty smile suddenly disappears as Landon grabs the one arm remaining around his head and rolls out to the side, extending Flesher’s limb before twisting on the mat to apply a grounded armwringer!


“He may not be a mat genius, but you can’t let up on Landon Maddix,” Mak Francis notes, “he’s resilient and resourceful, for all his faults.”


Flesher curses himself for his showboating and resolves to fix it quickly; he pushes himself up to get some space to work in, then executes a quick forward roll to release the pressure on his arm. Maddix is slightly dazed still and doesn’t have the mat instincts to dive on for a cover immediately in any case, allowing Tom to twist up and grab for a side headlock with his other arm, then roll on the mat and take Landon over his hips and down again, this time onto his back.






Flesher hasn’t even stopped moving; he releases the headlock and brings Landon up to a sitting position, then threads his left arm underneath Landon’s right and locks on an abdominal stretch. The Cruiserweight Champion looks around at the crowd with a tight grin on his face, pleased with his rescuing of the situation, but he momentarily forgets one thing; he can no longer see Michael Stephens.




“Cheap shot!” King snaps as the World Champion delivers a basement dropkick to the back of Flesher’s head to break up the submission and allow Landon to topple to one side as Tom grabs his skull, “so much for obeying the rules there, hey Francis?”


“Anyone will jump into a tag match to save their partner,” Mak Francis argues, “and he has five legal seconds to be in that ring at the same time as Maddix.”


“And Tom has five legal seconds to apply a choke. Fair’s fair!”


“Nothing’s fair about Tom when he’s in this mood,” the Franchise declares as Flesher grabs Landon in a rear waistlock before La Cucaracha can take advantage and make it to his corner. Flesher drags Landon up to his feet and looks over his opponent’s shoulder towards where Michael Stephens has stepped out to the apron again. The Superior One raises his eyebrows, as if asking whether Stephens really wanted him to stop the submission…


…then bridges backwards, hurling Landon from his grasp with a release German suplex that dumps the Spaniard on the back of his neck and sees him finish up in a crumpled heap near Charlie Matthews’ feet!




“A textbook German there from Flesher, and things aren’t looking good for Landon,” Mak Francis states, “he’s as tough as they come-”


“-actually, I’d wager that Tom is a good 50% tougher,” the Gambling Man chimes in.


“-but against this team he’s going to go down quickly unless he can get to his partner,” Francis finishes, glaring at his co-announcer.


“Get to his partner? Dream on, wheels,” King sniffs, “the teamwork of Flesher and Matthews is as beautifully choreographed as a performance by the New York Ballet Academy.”


A stranger comparison has possibly never been made, but Tom Flesher feels he’s made his point and walks over to tag in the tutu-less Charlie Matthews to continue the match. However, on the way Tom accidentally grinds the heel of his boot down over Landon’s face, bringing a warning from Kivell that the Cruiserweight Champion summarily ignores. Grappler steps over the top rope and then walks over Landon… but by ‘walking over’, we mean he plants one foot on Maddix’s chest and steps up, then steps down again. Then wipes his boot off on the canvas.




“I’m getting sick of this,” Francis says, “Tom and Charlie are a good, talented team - why the dirty tactics and cheap offence?”


“Why not?” King replies, kicking back and putting his feet up on the announce desk.


Matthews reaches down to pick up the gasping Maddix and hoists him to his feet, then engulfs his opponent in those huge arms. However, this is no gentle hug from the big man… no, it’s the dreaded BEARHUG~!






The Canadian crowd start chanting almost immediately, surely before their boredom thresholds can really have been reached; not that Charlie cares, because he knows this strategy will work. Landon struggles but he’s being held fast by a man much stronger than he is. However, Tom Flesher is a little impatient at times and so, seeing that Matthew Kivell is busy asking Landon whether he wants to submit, the Superior One starts to undo the turnbuckle covering on the top buckle of his corner. Kivell is oblivious, but Matthews sees his partner at work and decides to capitalise - even as the crowd continue to chant their derisive comments Grappler hoists Landon off the mat and charges forward without a great deal of speed but with a hellish amount of momentum-




-to slam Maddix’s back against the exposed steel! Landon cries out in anguish and Matthews grabs him again, then twists around to plant the Spaniard into the canvas with a side belly-to-belly suplex that shakes the very ring! He then hooks Maddix’s leg and makes a cover as Kivell dives to count…



















…Landon kicks out, but as the referee’s attention is distracted Flesher quickly starts to reattach the turnbuckle cover. Kivell looks up and sees him, jumps to his feet and begins barking terse instructions for Flesher to back away from the ringpost, then directs a member of the ring crew to reattach the pad.


“Too late Kivell,” Francis sighs, “he wasn’t loosening it, he’d already taken it off!”


“This is why Flesher is your God.”


“What, because he can put one over on Matthew Kivell?” Francis asks in sheer astonishment, “come on, that would make Danny Dagda the Messiah.”


Matthews brings Landon up with about as much effort as Landon himself would need to pull a five year-old up, then grabs a rear waistlock. However, rather than try for an inverted bearhug or something equally devastating(!) Grappler slips his head under Landon’s left arm and hoists Maddix into the air, then dumps him back down again over one extended knee with an atomic drop that jars the smaller man’s spine.






Michael Stephens looks around in bewilderment, but yes, it’s happening. Whether through association with him, an identification with the underdog or simply sheer hatred of Matthews and Flesher and their faux-Canadian ways, the crowd are starting to get behind Maddix. Mike shrugs, and starts thumping the turnbuckle. Time to go with the flow.






However, the chants don’t seem to be doing any good at the moment, as Matthews reaches over and tags Flesher in before grabbing Landon’s hair and hauling him upright. Kivell complains, but quickly starts delivering a five-count as Flesher heads for the ropes and bounces off them, then accelerates towards the woozy Maddix that Grappler is still holding up…




“YAKUUUUUUUUUUUUZA!” Suicide King shouts gleefully as Flesher does his best to obliterate Maddix’s face, “I hope Landon’s saved some money, because I hear facial reconstructive surgery doesn’t come cheap!”


“Unlike Megan Skye.”




Flesher pulls up after the impact and waves to the crowd happily, then places one boot on Maddix’s chest and instructs Kivell to count the pin.



















-but Landon kicks out! Flesher sighs and drops to make a more traditional cover…



















-but Landon kicks out again!






Flesher rocks back on his haunches and tuts, giving Landon an opening to turn onto his front and start to crawl towards his tag team partner - Flesher isn’t going to allow that though, and he mounts Landon’s back, then tugs his opponent’s arms back over his knees to apply a Camel Clutch.






Flesher looks around as if he can’t quite believe what he’s hearing, while Charlie Matthews looks, if anything, jealous! However, despite the pain that’s wracking Landon’s frame and which is clearly visible on his face Tom clearly can’t bear to think that he’s depriving his ‘hometown fans’ of anything less than top wrestling action, so with a smirk he shoves Landon’s head downwards and rolls forward into a Gedo Clutch pin.



















-but Landon kicks out, sending the Superior One sprawling forwards. Flesher gets up not too many feet from where Michael Stephens is standing on the apron… and the Cruiserweight Champion spits in the face of the man he might be challenging at Genesis!




Stephens is of course incensed, and he scrambles through the ropes to get to his opponent. Flesher turns away laughing as Kivell dashes forward to restrain the World Champion… and in that moment when the referee’s distracted, Landon Maddix does what Landon Maddix does best.


He cheats.






Tom Flesher goes from a confident stride to a knock-kneed crumple with optional bulging eyes, and the crowd goes from sitting on their hands to jumping up with delight! Landon watches as the Superior One topples forwards, then the Spaniard starts to wearily crawl towards his partner with hand outstretched. He’s five feet away…


…three feet away…


…and Tom Flesher grabs his ankle.


“YES!” Suicide King shouts, “not even Landon Maddix’s despicable, heinous cheating ways can put Tom Flesher out! He’s still in the game Francis, and he’s still up to the challenge!”


Sure enough, Flesher has enough of a grasp on Landon to prevent him from making the tag, for all the fact that Stephens is trying to go-go-gadget-arms. However, Tom doesn’t have enough left in the tank to do much else at the moment, a fact that James Matheson has noted. The scrawny manager jumps up onto the apron in a neutral corner, bellowing at Matthew Kivell about Maddix’s dirty tactics, and as the referee is tied up Grappler gets into the ring and makes his way to Flesher, then takes hold of his partner and tows both him and Landon over to their corner!




Kivell turns around to see Matthews, once more back on the apron, making a tag with the prone Flesher and stepping into the ring as the legal man. The Superior One doesn’t release his grip on Landon’s leg until Matthews has taken a firm grip on the scruff of Maddix’s neck, at which point Tom rolls under the bottom rope to be alone with his pain.


“That’s good teamwork, cutting the ring off like that,” King smiles.


“Cutting it off illegally!” Mak snaps.


Matthews doesn’t care, of course; he brings Maddix up and hoists the smaller man up over his shoulder, then points towards the centre of the ring to signal for a running powerslam! However, as he starts forward Maddix kicks his legs, trying to unbalance his monstrous opponent… and he slips out backwards!




Matthews stops, rather ponderously admittedly, and turns around to try and get a bead on his opponent. Maddix doesn’t bother launching an attack and tries to dart past the big man to get to his corner…


…but Charlie fields him and wraps him up in a bearhug!






Grappler squeezes with all his might as the fans chant and it seems to Landon that he can almost hear his ribs creaking under the pressure. Kivell moves in, ready to call for a submission as Maddix’s tortured torso takes yet more punishment and La Cucaracha starts to droop.




‘C’mon Landon!’ Megan shrieks from ringside… and Maddix’s eyes suddenly focus.


He’s not taking this shit. Not twice in one night.




“He biting him!” Mak Francis exclaims as Charlie Matthews suddenly staggers back, under assault from an unexpected quarter. The crushing arms suddenly start trying to remove Landon as quickly as possible, but Maddix now proves difficult to get rid of; Charlie basically shoves him away before grabbing his face in pain, but Maddix can literally taste blood now and before Grappler can do anything the Spaniard lunges for him again, then wraps an arm around his shoulders and falls backwards with the Complete Shot!








Tom Flesher starts to pull himself up on the top rope, his Superior Package still aching. He looks into the ring and sees both men down, decides to take a hand…


…and someone beats him to it.


“Get him out of the ring!” King bellows as Michael Stephens vaults over the top rope into the ring and sets off at a dead run. However, as he evades Matthew Kivell it’s clear that the Sensation isn’t heading for Charlie Matthews - he’s heading for the far corner, and he jumps to the second rope before vaulting off and flying clean over the adjacent top rope, wrapping his legs around the head of the startled Tom Flesher and taking the Superior One off the apron with a hurricanrana to the floor!








“Oh, fine, wonderful move,” Suicide King snarls, “but who’s Landon going to tag now, huh? You’ve left him alone with Grappler Toxx,” he continues at the figure of the World Champion who’s lying on the outside of the ring near the announce desk, “and Matthews will make mincemeat of him!”


James Matheson doesn’t like the odds so well though, and slides his briefcase into the ring as Kivell yells over the top rope at Stephens and Flesher, hoping to encourage at least one of them to return to the apron. The steel briefcase bumps against the hand of Charlie Matthews who reaches out and clutches it as Landon groggily starts to get back to his feet, but Matty Kivell has seen it and swoops down to remove it from Grappler’s grasp. Which is of course just what Matheson was planning on, and as Kivell turns to get the briefcase out of the ring he turns for the tag belts, seeking to slide one to Matthews…


…and finds that two girls have got there before him. One of them is petite, blonde and stunningly attractive; the other is large, chubby and smells of beer. Neither of them are smiling… and then Amy Stephens does smile, and Matheson wishes she hadn’t.






“That’s assault!” Suicide King wails as Amy headbutts Matheson and sends him crumpling backwards into the ringpost, where he slides down into an uncomfortable sitting position. Megan Skye looks approvingly at her opposite number, who waves an encouraging hand…






“That’s just funny,” Mak sniggers as Megan kicks Matheson right in the crotch. Meanwhile Grappler has figured out that he can’t count on any more outside help and makes a lunge for Landon. However the agile Spaniard ducks under his grasp and slips behind him, then jumps up and cups both hands underneath Matthews’ chin before falling backwards and bringing his knees up-




-to take the big man down with a Lungblower!








Maddix rolls away, wondering why the hell he just thought it was a good idea to bring 300lbs down on top of him, turns towards his corner… and Michael Stephens isn’t there. He hasn’t got back from his tumble to the floor with Tom Flesher.


And Charlie Matthews grabs Landon’s foot.




“Like a vice Charlie, like a vice!” King shouts desperately, but Landon raises his other boot and smashes it into Matthew’s face once, twice, three times, and Grappler lets go. Landon turns towards his corner again…


…and now Michael Stephens is there. And as the World Champion stretches out one black-nailed hand, Landon Maddix finds the energy to make one last dive forwards, reaching out as he half-flies, half-falls through the air…






The crowd erupts as Stephens vaults over the top rope again (legally this time) and lands in the ring, then charges for Matthews! The big man tries to get up to a vertical base to defend himself but Stephens simply launches himself off his feet and drives a basement dropkick into Charlie’s face, then gets back up and lunges again to hit a baseball slide on Tom Flesher as the Superior One struggles to get back on the apron following his unexpected trip to the floor of the Rexall Place.






“The tag champions are on the ropes,” Mak Francis shouts over the crowd noise, “we could be about to see a title change here!”


Stephens climbs up to the second buckle, then reconsiders and goes to the top one, waiting for Matthews to stand. The big man gets back to his feet, looking around for his smaller tormentor…


…and Stephens comes off the top rope with a beautifully-executed flipping neckbreaker that takes the Tag Champion back down to the mat hard.






Stephens dives on top for the cover as Matthews grabs at his notoriously-weak neck…




















-broken up by Tom Flesher!




The Superior One grabs Stephens by his hair and bring him up, then threads his opponent’s arm between his legs and snaps backwards to dump Stephens right on his fucking skull!




“LOGICAL DISCONNECT!” Suicide King roars, “and it’s teatime in Frankfurt!”


Flesher pops back to his feet, a nasty glint in his eyes… but suddenly Landon Maddix appears behind him and takes hold of the back of his singlet, then simply throws the Cruiserweight Champion out through the ropes to the floor!




“It’s all breaking down in here now,” Mak Francis shouts, “and we’re not done yet! Turn around, Landon!”


Too late. Maddix turns around to find Charlie Matthews’ huge hands wrapping around his neck, but instead of the cushy through-the-ropes option that Flesher got, Grappler sends Landon all the way over the top of the cables instead and drops to cover Michael Stephens…























“It was the delay!” Suicide King shouts, “there’s no way a wimp like Toxxic could have kicked out of that!”


Charlie Matthews seems to agree, but instead of trying again the big man has his own plan. Namely, haul Stephens back to his feet and put him in a vertical headscissors…


“He’s calling for the powerbomb,” Mak Francis says, “and this will do it!”


Thing is, Matthews missed one thing. Landon Maddix is a former Clusterfuck winner, and it’s the instincts of people like that to hang on to the top rope when they get thrown over it. His battered midsection means that he hasn’t been able to do anything but hang there, but now La Cucaracha musters his strength and swings back and up, skinning the cat into the ring!




Charlie Matthews just gapes at him, only now realising what’s happened. And Landon sets off at a sprint.


He leaps up…


…vaults off Michael Stephens’ back as the World Champion is bent double with his head between Grappler’s legs…


…and knees Charlie Matthews square in the jaw.






“SHINING WIZARD!” Francis bellows as Matthews topples backwards like a mighty redwood. Stephens stumbles… and Landon reaches out to steady him.


The two men look at each other for a moment as the crowd noise rises around them. Then Landon points at the turnbuckle, and Stephens nods.


“What’re they doing?” King says nervously as Landon heads for one neutral corner while Stephens starts climbing the ringpost opposite, “Mak, what’re they doing?”


“I don’t know,” the Franchise answers, “but I don’t think it’s going to be good for Charlie…”


Atop their respective ringposts, Landon and Mike look at each other. Maddix flashes a thumbs-up. Stephens just shrugs. And then they both leap off, flying through the air as flashbulbs go off all around the Rexall Place. Landon pumps his arms and legs as he flies, Stephens performs a somersault in midair.


They both land at the same time. Maddix comes down on top of Grappler’s chest with a Frog Splash, while Stephens lands the Hangover legdrop across Matthew’s throat.




Maddix rolls off, clutching at his ribs. It was one last shot to win the match, and Stephens makes the cover…






Tom Flesher scrambles back into the ring and starts to run.










Landon Maddix reaches out and grabs at Flesher’s legs, staggering the Cruiserweight Champion. He’s not that effective.







He didn’t need to be.






“Ladies and gentlemen, here are your winners, and NEEEEEEWWWWWWW SWF Tag Team Champions of the WOOOOOOORRRRRRRRRLLLLLLLLLD~” Funyon booms over the rapturous crowd reaction and the bellowing of the Beastie Boys, “the team of Landon ‘La Cucaracha’ Maddix and Michael Stephens… TWO! SKINNY! WHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIITE GUYS!!”


“NO!” King bellows, “it can’t be! That can’t be right!”


“It is right, and damn it King, it’s justified!” Mak Francis replies, “they’re a real team now, and they’re the tag team champions!”


Matthew Kivell raises the hand of each man in victory, then presents them with the tag belts (after getting them off Amy and Megan). Stephens and Maddix look at each other for a long moment.


Then they clasp hands. Maybe not as friends, but certainly - at least for now - as partners.








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